An  Unexpected 


New  York 
Dodd,  Mead  and  Company 


Copyright,  1883,  1889,  1892,  by  DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY. 


f 


AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 


"  JACK,  she  played  with  me  deliberately, 
heartlessly.  I  can  never  forgive  her." 

"  In  that  case,  Will,  I  congratulate  you. 
Such  a  girl  isn't  worth  a  second  thought,  and 
you've  made  a  happy  escape." 

"  No  congratulations,  if  you  please.  You 
can  talk  coolly,  because  in  regard  to  such 
matters  you  are  cool,  and,  I  may  add,  a  trifle 
cold.  Ambition  is  your  mistress,  and  a  musty 
law  book  has  more  attractions  for  you  than 
any  woman  living.  I'm  not  so  tempered.  I 
am  subject  to  the  general  law  of  nature,  and  a 
woman's  love  and  sympathy  are  essential  to 
success  in  my  life  and  work." 

"That's   all   right,    but    there   are .  as  good 

fish~       M150477 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT. 


'''Oh,'  Mve'done  with  your  trite  nonsense,'* 
interrupted  Will  Munson  impatiently.  "  I'd 
consult  you  on  a  point  of  law  in  preference  to 
most  of  the  graybeards,  but  I  was  a  fool  to 
speak  of  this  affair.  And  yet  as  my  most  inti 
mate  friend— 

"  Come,  Will,  I'm  not  unfeeling,"  and  John 
Ackland  rose  and  put  his  hand  on  his  friend's 
shoulder.  "  I  admit  that  the  subject  is  remote 
from  my  line  of  thought  and  wholly  beyond 
my  experience.  If  the  affair  is  so  serious  I 
shall  take  it  to  heart." 

"  Serious  !  Is  it  a  slight  thing  to  be  crip 
pled  for  life  ?  " 

"  Oh,  come  now,"  said  Ackland,  giving  his 
friend  a  hearty  and  encouraging  thump,  "  you 
are  sound  in  mind  and  limb  ;  what  matters  a 
scratch  on  the  heart  to  a  man  not  twenty- 
five  ?" 

'  Very  well  ;  I'll  say  no  more  about  it. 
When  I  need  a  lawyer  I'll  come  to  you. 
Good-by  ;  I  sail  for  Brazil  in  the  morning." 

14  Will,  sit  down  and  look  me  in  the  eyes," 
said  Ackland  decisively.  '  Will,  forgive  me. 
You  are  in  trouble.  A  man's  eyes  usually  tell 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  9 

me  more  than  all  his  words,  and  I  don't  like 
the  expression  of  yours.  There  is  yellow  fever 
in  Brazil." 

44  I  know  it,"  was  the  careless  reply. 

44  What  excuse  have  you  for  going  ?  " 

"  Business  complications  have  arisen  there, 
and  I  promptly  volunteered  to  go.  My  em 
ployers  were  kind  enough  to  hesitate  and  warn 
me,  and  to  say  that  they  could  send  a  man  less 
valuable  to  them,  but  I  soon  overcame  their 
objections." 

"  That  is  your  excuse  for  going.  The  reason 
I  see  in  your  eyes.  You  are  reckless,  Will." 

14  I  have  reason  to  be." 

44  I  can't  agree  with  you,  but  I  feel  for  you 
all  the  same.  Tell  me  all  about  it,  for  this  is 
sad  news  to  me.  I  hoped  to  have  joined  you 
on  the  beach  in  a  few  days,  and  to  have  spent 
August  with  you  and  my  cousin.  I  confess  1 
am  beginning  to  feel  exceedingly  vindictive 
toward  this  pretty  little  monster,  and  if  any 
harm  comes  to  you  I  shall  be  savage  enough  to 
scalp  her." 

*4  The  harm  has  come  already,  Jack.  I'm 
hit  hard.  She  showed  me  a  mirage  of  happi- 


10  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 

ness  that  has  made  my  present  world  a  desert, 
I  am  reckless  — I'm  desperate.  You  may 
think  it  is  weak  and  unmanly,  but  you  don't 
know  anything  about  it.  Time  or  the  fever 
may  cure  me,  but  now  I  am  bankrupt  in  all 
that  gives  value  to  life.  A  woman  with  an 
art  so  consummate  that  it  seemed  artless,  de 
liberately  evoked  the  best  there  was  in  me, 
then  threw  it  away  as  indifferently  as  a  cast-off 
glove. ' ' 

'  Tell  me  how  it  came  about." 
11  How  can  I  tell  you  ?  How  can  I  in  cold- 
blood  recall  glances,  words,  intonations,  the 
pressure  of  a  hand  that  seemed  alive  with  re 
ciprocal  feeling  ?  In  addition  to  her  beauty  she 
had  the  irresistible  charm  of  fascination.  I 
was  wary  at  first,  but  she  angled  for  me  with  a 
skill  that  would  have  disarmed  any  man  who 
did  not  believe  in  the  inherent  falseness  of 
woman.  The  children  in  the  house  idolized 
her,  and  I  have  great  faith  in  a  child's  intui 
tions." 

44  Oh,  that  was  only  a  part  of  her  guile,"  said 
Ackland  frowningly. 

'  Probably  ;  at  any  rate  she  has   taken   all 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT,  II 

the  color  and  zest  out  of  my  life.  I  wish  some 
one  could  pay  her  back  in  her  own  coin.  I 
don't  suppose  she  has  a  heart,  but  I  wish  her 
vanity  might  be  wounded  in  a  way  that  would 
teach  her  a  lesson  never  to  be  forgotten." 

4  It  certainly  would  be  a  well-deserved  retri 
bution,"  said  Ackland  musingly. 

'  Jack,  you  are  the  one,  of  all  the  world,  to 
administer  the  punishment.  I  don't  believe  a 
woman's  smiles  ever  quickened  your  pulse  one 
beat." 

"  You  are  right,  Will,  it  is  my  cold-blooded 
ness — to  put  your  thought  in  plain  English — 
that  will  prove  your  best  ally. 

41  I  only  hope  that  I  am  not  leading  you 
into  danger.  You  will  need  an  Indian's 
stoicism." 

"  Bah  !  I  may  fail  ignominiously,  and  find 
her  vanity  invulnerable,  but  I  pledge  you  my 
word  that  I  will  avenge  you  if  it  be  within  the 
compass  of  my  skill.  My  cousin,  Mrs.  Alston, 
may  prove  a  useful  ally.  I  think  you  wrote 
me  that  the  name  of  this  siren  was  Eva  Van 
Tyne?" 

"  Yes  ;  I   only  wish  she  had  the  rudiments 


12  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT, 

of  a  heart,  so  that  she  might  feel,  in  a  faint, 
far  off  way,  a  little  of  the  pain  she  has  inflicted 
on  me.  Don't  let  her  make  you  falter  or  grow 
remorseful,  Jack.  Remember  that  you  have 
given  a  pledge  to  one  who  may  be  dead  before 
you  can  fulfil  it." 

Ackland  said  farewell  to  his  friend  with  the 
fear  that  he  might  never  see  him  again,  and  a 
few  days  later  found  himself  at  a  New  England 
seaside  resort,  with  a  relentless  purpose  lurking 
in  his  dark  eyes.  Mrs.  Alston  did  uncon 
sciously  prove  a  useful  ally,  for  her  wealth  and 
elegance  gave  her  unusual  prestige  in  the 
house,  and  in  joining  her  party  Ackland 
achieved  immediately  all  the  social  recogni 
tion  he  desired. 

While  strolling  with  this  lady  on  the  piazza 
he  observed  the  object  of  his  quest,  and  was  at 
once  compelled  to  make  more  allowance  than 
he  had  done  hitherto  for  his  friend's  discomfit 
ure.  Two  or  three  children  were  leaning  over 
the  young  girl's  chair,  and  she  was  amusing 
them  by  some  clever  caricatures.  She  was  not 
so  interested,  however,  but  that  she  soon  noted 
the  new  comer,  and  bestowed  upon  him  from 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  13 

time  to  time  curious  and  furtive  glances.  That 
these  were  not  returned  seemed  to  occasion 
her  some  surprise,  for  she  was  not  accustomed 
to  be  so  utterly  ignored,  even  by  a  stranger. 
A  little  later  Ackland  saw  her  consulting  the 
hotel  register. 

11  I  have  at  least  awakened  her  curiosity,"  he 
thought. 

"  I've  been  waiting  for  you  to  ask  me  who 
that  pretty  girl  was,"  said  Mrs.  Alston,  laugh 
ing  ;  "you  do  indeed  exceed  all  men  in  in 
difference  toward  our  sex." 

tl  I  know  all  about  that  girl,"  was  the  grim 
reply.  "She  has  played  the  very  deuce  with 
my  friend  Munson." 

'Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Alston  indignantly, 
"  it  was  the  most  shameful  piece  of  coquetry  I 
ever  saw.  She  is  a  puzzle  to  me.  To  the 
children  and  the  old  people  in  the  house  she 
is  consideration  and  kindness  itself,  but  she 
appears  to  regard  men  of  your  years  as  legiti 
mate  game  and  is  perfectly  remorseless.  So 
beware.  She  is  dangerous,  invulnerable  as  you 
imagine  yourself  to  be.  She  will  practise  her 
wiles  upon  you  if  you  give  her  half  a  chance. 


14  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 

and  her  art  has  much  more  than  her  pretty 
face  to  enforce  it.  She  is  unusually  clever. 

Ackland's  slight  shrug  was  so  contemptuous 
that  his  cousin  was  nettled,  and  she  thought, 
*'  I  wish  the  girl  could  disturb  his  complacent 
equanimity  just  a  little  ;  it  vexes  one  to  see  a 
man  so  indifferent  ;  it's  a  slight  to  our  sex," 
and  she  determined  to  give  Miss  Van  Tyne  the 
vantage-ground  of  an  introduction  at  the  first 
opportunity. 

And  this  occurred  before  the  evening  was 
over.  To  her  surprise  Ackland  entered  into 
an  extended  conversation  with  the  enemy. 
4  Well, "she  thought,  "if  he  begins  in  this 
style  there  will  soon  be  another  victim.  Miss 
Van  Tyne  can  talk  to  as  bright  a  man  as  he  is 
and  hold  her  own.  Meanwhile  she  will  assail 
him  in  a  hundred  covert  ways.  Out  of  regard 
for  his  friend  he  should  have  shown  some  dis 
approval  of  her,  but  there  he  sits  quietly  talk 
ing  in  the  publicity  of  the  parlor." 

"  Mrs.  Alston,"  said  a  friend  at  her  elbow, 
"  you  ought  to  forewarn  your  cousin  and  tell 
him  of  Mr.  Munson's  fate." 

44  He   knows  all  about   Mr.    Munson,"    was 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  15 

her  reply.  "  Indeed,  the  latter  is  his  most  in 
timate  friend.  I  suppose  my  cousin  is  indulg 
ing  in  a  little  natural  curiosity  concerning  this 
destroyer  of  masculine  peace,  and  if  ever  a  man 
could  do  so  in  safety  he  can." 

"Why  so?" 

'  Well,  I  never  knew  so  unsusceptible  a  man. 
With  the  exception  of  a  few  of  his  relatives,  he 
has  never  cared  for  ladies'  society." 

Mrs.  Alston  was  far  astray  in  supposing  that 
curiosity  was  Ackland's  motive  in  his  rather 
prolonged  conversation  with  Miss  Van  Tyne. 
It  was  simply  a  part  of  his  tactics,  for  he  pro 
posed  to  waste  no  time  in  skirmishing  or  in 
guarded  and  gradual  approaches.  He  would 
cross  weapons  at  once,  and  secure  his  object  by 
a  sharp  and  aggressive  campaign.  His  object 
was  to  obtain  immediately  some  idea  of  the 
calibre  of  the  girl's  mind,  and  in  this  respect 
he  was  agreeably  surprised,  for  while  giving 
little  evidence  of  thorough  education,  she  was 
unusually  intelligent  and  exceedingly  quick  in 
her  perceptions.  He  soon  learned  also  that 
she  was  gifted  with  more  than  woman's  cus 
tomary  intuition,  that  she  was  watching  his 


1 6  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 

face  closely  for  meanings  that  he  might  not 
choose  to  express  in  words  or  else  to  conceal 
by  his  language.  While  he  feared  that  his 
task  would  be  far  more  difficult  than  he  ex 
pected,  and  that  he  would  have  to  be  extreme 
ly  guarded  in  order  not  to  reveal  his  design,  he 
was  glad  to  learn  that  the  foe  was  worthy  of 
his  steel.  Meanwhile  her  ability  and  self- 
reliance  banished  all  compunction.  He  had 
no  scruples  in  humbling  the  pride  of  a  woman 
who  was  at  once  so  proud,  so  heartless,  and  so 
clever.  Nor  would  the  effort  be  wearisome, 
for  she  had  proved  herself  both  amusing  and 
interesting.  He  might  enjoy  it  quite  as  much 
as  an  intricate  law  case. 

Even  prejudiced  Ackland,  as  he  saw  her  oc 
casionally  on  the  following  day,  was  compelled 
to  admit  that  she  was  more  than  pretty.  Her 
features  were  neither  regular  nor  faultless.  Her 
mouth  was  too  large  to  be  perfect  and  her 
nose  was  not  Grecian,  but  her  eyes  were  pecul 
iarly  fine  and  illumined  her  face,  whose  chief 
charm  lay  in  its  power  of  expression.  If  she 
chose,  almost  all  her  thoughts  and  feelings 
could  find  their  reflex  there.  The  trouble  was 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  ij 

that  she  could  as  readily  mask  her  thought  and 
express  what  she  did  not  feel.  Her  eyes  were 
of  the  darkest  blue  and  her  hair  seemed  light  in 
contrast.  It  was  evident  that  she  had  studied 
grace  so  thoroughly  that  her  manner  and  car 
riage  appeared  unstudied  and  natural.  She 
never  seemed  self-conscious,  and  yet  no  one  had 
ever  seen  her  in  an  ungainly  posture  or  had 
known  her  to  make  an  awkward  gesture.  This 
grace,  however,  like  a  finished  style  in  writing, 
was  tinged  so  strongly  with  her  own  individ 
uality  that  it  appeared  original  as  compared 
with  the  fashionable  monotony  which  charac 
terized  the  manners  of  so  many  of  her  age. 
She  could  not  have  been  much  more  than 
twenty,  and  yet,  as  Mrs.  Alston  took  pains 
to  inform  her  cousin,  she  had  long  been  in 
;,  society,  adding,  "It's  homage  is  her  breath 
of  life,  and  from  all  I  hear  your  friend  Munson 
has  had  many  predecessors.  Be  on  your 
guard." 

"  Your  solicitude  in  my  behalf  is  quite 
touching,"  he  replied.  "Who  is  this  fair 
buccaneer  that  has  made  so  many  wrecks  and 
exacts  so  heavy  a  revenue  from  society  ?  Who 


1 8  AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT. 

has  the   care  of  her  and  what  are  her  antece« 
dents?" 

"  She  is  an  orphan  and  possessed,  I  am  told, 
of  considerable  property  in  her  own  name.  A 
forceless,  nerveless  maiden  aunt  is  about  the 
only  antecedent  we  see  much  of.  Her  guar 
dian  has  been  here  once  or  twice,  but  practically 
she  is  independent." 

Miss  Van  Tyne's  efforts  to  learn  something 
concerning  Ackland  were  apparently  quite  as 
casual  and  indifferent  and  yet  were  made  with 
utmost    skill.      She   knew  that    Mrs.    Alston's 
friend  was  something  of  a  gossip,  and  she  led 
her  to   speak   of  the  subject   of   her  thoughts 
with  an  indirect  finesse  that  would  have  amused 
the  young  man  exceedingly  could  he  have  been 
an    unobserved    witness.      When    she    learned 
that  he  was  Mr.  Munson's  intimate  friend  and 
that    he    was   aware    of   her  treatment   of  the 
latter,  she  was  somewhat  disconcerted.     One  so 
forewarned  might   not  become  an  easy   prey. 
But   the  additional   fact  that  he  was  almost  a 
woman-hater  put  her  upon  her  mettle  at  once, 
and  she  felt  that  here  was  a  chance  for  a  con 
quest  such  as  she  had  never  made  before.     She 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  19 

now  believed  that  she  had  discovered  the  key 
to  his  indifference.  He  was  ready  enough  to 
amuse  himself  with  her  as  a  clever  woman,  but 
knew  her  too  well  to  bestow  upon  her  even  a 
friendly  thought. 

"  If  I  can  bring  him  to  my  feet  it  will  be  a 
triumph  indeed,"  she  murmured  exultantly, 
11  and  at  my  feet  he  shall  be  if  he  gives  me 
half  a  chance."  Seemingly  he  gave  her  every 
chance  that  she  could  desire,  and  while  he 
scarcely  made  any  effort  to  seek  her  society, 
she  noted  with  secret  satisfaction  that  he  often 
appeared  as  if  accidentally  near  her,  and  that 
he  ever  made  it  the  easiest  and  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world  for  her  to  join  him.  His 
conversation  was  often  as  gay  and  unconven 
tional  as  she  could  wish,  but  she  seldom  failed 
to  detect  in  it  an  uncomfortable  element  of 
satire  and  irony.  He  always  left  her  dissatis 
fied  with  herself  and  with  a  depressing  con 
sciousness  that  she  had  made  no  impression 
upon  him. 

His  conquest  grew  into  an  absorbing  desire, 
and  she  unobtrusively  brought  to  bear  upon 
him  every  art  and  fascination  that  she  possess- 


20  AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT. 

ed.  Her  toilets  were  as  exquisite  as  they 
were  simple.  The  children  were  made  to  idol 
ize  her  more  than  ever,  but  Ackland  was  can 
did  enough  to  admit  that  this  was  not  all  guile 
on  her  part,  for  she  was  evidently  in  sympathy 
with  the  little  people,  who  can  rarely  be  im 
posed  upon  by  any  amount  of  false  interest. 
Indeed,  he  saw  no  reason  to  doubt  that  she 
abounded  in  good-nature  toward  all  except  the 
natural  objects  of  her  ruling  passion  ;  but  the 
very  skill  and  deliberateness  with  which  she 
sought  to  gratify  this  passion  greatly  increased 
his  vindictive  feeling.  He  saw  how  naturally 
and  completely  his  friend  had  been  deceived 
and  how  exquisite  must  have  been  the  hopes 
and  anticipations  so  falsely  raised.  Therefore 
he  smiled  more  grimly  at  the  close  of  each  suc 
ceeding  day,  and  was  fully  bent  upon  the  ac 
complishment  of  his  purpose. 

At  length  Miss  Van  Tyne  changed  her  tac 
tics  and  grew  quite  oblivious  to  Ackland 's  pres 
ence  in  the  house,  but  she  found  him  appar 
ently  too  indifferent  to  observe  the  fact.  She 
then  permitted  one  of  her  several  admirers  to 
become  devoted  ;  Ackland  did  not  offer  the 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  21 

protest  of  even  a  glance.  He  stood,  as  it  were, 
just  where  she  had  left  him,  ready  for  an  occa 
sional  chat,  stroll  or  excursion,  if  the  affair 
came  about  naturally  and  without  much  effort 
on  his  part.  She  found  that  she  could  not  in 
duce  him  to  seek  her  or  annoy  him  by  an  in 
difference  which  she  meant  should  be  more 
marked  than  his  own. 

Some  little  time  after  there  came  a  windy  day, 
and  the  surf  was  so  heavy  that  there  were  but 
few  bathers.  Ackland  was  a  good  swimmer, 
and  took  his  plunge  as  usual.  He  was  leaving 
the  water  when  Miss  Van  Tyne  ran  down  the 
beach  and  was  about  to  dart  through  the 
breakers  in  her  wonted  fearless  style. 

"  Be  careful,"  he  said  to  her  ;  "  the  under 
tow  is  strong,  and  the  man  who  has  charge  of 
the  bathing  is  ill  and  not  here.  The  tide  is 
changing — in  fact,  running  out  already  I 
believe. ' '  But  she  would  not  even  look  at  him, 
much  less  answer.  As  there  were  other  gen 
tlemen  present  he  started  for  his  bath-house, 
but  had  proceeded  but  a  little  way  up  the 
beach  before  a  cry  brought  him  to  the  water's 
edge  instantly. 


22  AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT. 

"  Something  is  wrong  with  Miss  Van  Tyne," 
cried  half  a  dozen  voices.  "  She  ventured  out 
recklessly,  and  it  seems  as  if  she  couldn't  get 
back." 

At  that  moment  her  form  rose  on  the  crest 
of  a  wave,  and  above  the  thunder  of  the  surf 
came  her  faint  cry,  "  Help  !" 

The  other  bathers  stood  irresolute,  for  she 
was  dangerously  far  out,  and  the  tide  had  evi 
dently  turned.  Ackland,  on  the  contrary, 
dashed  through  the  breakers  and  then,  in  his 
efforts  for  speed,  dove  through  the  waves  near 
est  to  the  shore.  When  he  reached  the  place 
where  he  expected  to  find  her  he  saw  nothing 
for  a  moment  or  two  but  great  crested  billows 
that  every  moment  were  increasing  in  height 
under  the  rising  wind.  For  a  moment  he  fear 
ed  that  she  had  perished,  and  the  thought  that 
the  beautiful  creature  had  met  her  death  so 
suddenly  and  awfully  made  him  almost  sick 
and  faint.  An  instant  later,  however,  a  wave 
threw  her  up  from  the  trough  of  the  sea  into 
full  vision  somewhat  on  his  right,  and  a  few 
strong  strokes  brought  him  to  her  side. 

"  Oh,    save  me  !"   she  gasped. 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  23 

"  Don't  cling  to  me,"  he  said  sternly. 
"  Do  as  I  bid  you.  Strike  out  for  the  shore 
if  you  are  able  ;  if  not,  lie  on  your  back  and 
float." 

She  did  the  latter,  for  now  that  aid  had 
reached  her  she  apparently  recovered  from  her 
panic  and  was  perfectly  tractable.  He  placed 
his  left  hand  under  her  and  struck  out  quietly, 
aware  that  the  least  excitement  causing  ex 
haustion  on  his  part  might  cost  both  of  them 
their  lives. 

As  they  approached  the  shore  a  rope  was 
thrown  to  them,  and  Ackland,  who  felt  his 
strength  giving  way,  seized  it  desperately.  He 
passed  his  arm  around  his  companion  with  a 
grasp  that  almost  made  her  breathless,  and 
they  were  dragged,  half  suffocated,  through 
the  water  until  strong  hands  on  either  side 
rushed  them  through  the  breakers. 

Miss  Van  Tyne  for  a  moment  or  two  stood 
dazed  and  panting,  then  disengaged  herself 
from  the  rather  warm  support  of  the  devoted 
admirer  whom  she  had  tried  to  play  against 
Ackland,  and  tried  to  walk,  but  after  a  few 
uncertain  steps  fell  senseless  on  the  sand,  thus 


24  AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT. 

for  the  moment  drawing  to  herself  the  atten 
tion  of  the  increasing  throng.  Ackland,  glad 
to  escape  notice,  was  staggering  off  to  his 
bath-house  when  several  ladies,  more  mindful 
of  his  part  in  the  affair  than  the  men  had  been, 
overtook  him  with  a  fire  of  questions  and 
plaudits. 

"  Please  leave  me  alone,"  he  said,  almost 
savagely,  without  looking  around. 

"What  a  bear  he  is!"  they  chorused. 
"  Any  one  else  would  have  been  a  little  com 
placent  over  such  an  exploit."  And  they  fol 
lowed  the  unconscious  girl  who  was  now  being 
carried  to  the  hotel. 

Ackland  locked  the  door  of  his  little  apart 
ment  and  sank  panting  on  the  bench.  "  Male 
dictions  on  her!"  he  muttered.  "At  one 
time  there  was  a  better  chance  of  her  being 
fatal  to  me  than  to  Munson  with  his  yellow- 
fever  tragedy  in  prospect.  Her  recklessness 
to-day  was  perfectly  insane.  If  she  tries  it 
again  she  may  drown  for  all  that  I  care,  or  at 
least  ought  to  care." 

His  anger  appeared  to  act  like  a  tonic,  and 
he  was  soon  ready  to  return  to  the  house.  A 


AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT.  25 

dozen  sprang  forward  to  congratulate  him,  but 
they  found  such  impatience  and  annoyance  at 
all  reference  to  the  affair  that  with  many  sur 
mises  the  topic  was  dropped. 

"You  are  a  queer  fellow,"  remarked  his 
privileged  cousin,  as  he  took  her  out  to  dinner. 
"Why  don't  you  let  people  speak  naturally 
about  the  matter,  or  rather  why  don't  you  pose 
as  the  hero  of  the  occasion  ?" 

"  Because  the  whole  affair  was  most  unnat 
ural  and  I  am  deeply  incensed.  In  a  case  of 
necessity  I  am  ready  to  risk  my  life,  although 
it  has  unusual  attractions  forme,  but  I'm  no 
melodramatic  hero  looking  for  adventures. 
What  necessity  was  there  in  this  case  ?  It  is 
the  old  story  of  Munson  over  again  in  another 
guise.  The  act  was  that  of  an  inconsiderate, 
heartless  woman  who  follows  her  impulses  and 
inclinations  no  matter  what  may  be  the  conse 
quences.  "  After  a  moment  he  added,  less  in 
dignantly,  "  I  must  give  her  credit  for  one  thing, 
angry  as  I  am— she  behaved  well  in  the  water, 
otherwise  she  would  have  drowned  me." 

"She   is  not  a   fool.     Most  women   would 
have  drowned  you." 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT. 

"  She  is  indeed  not  a  fool  ;  therefore  she's 
the  more  to  blame.  If  she  is  ever  so  reckless 
again  may  I  be  asleep  in  my  room.  Of  course 
one  can't  stand  by  and  see  a  woman  drown,  no 
matter  who  or  what  she  is." 

"Jack,  what  made  her  so  reckless?"  Mrs. 
Alston  asked,  with  a  sudden  intelligence  light- 
ing  up  her  face. 

"  Hang  it  all  \  How  should  I  know  ?  What 
made  her  torture  Munson  ?  She  follows  her 
impulses,  and  they  are  not  always  conducive 
to  any  one's  well-being,  not  even  her  own." 

"  Mark  my  words,  she  has  never  shown  this 
kind  of  recklessness  before." 

"Oh  yes,  she  has.  She  was  running  her 
horse  to  death  the  other  hot  morning  and 
nearly  trampled  on  a  child  ;"  and  he  told  of  an 
unexpected  encounter  while  he  was  taking  a 
rather  extended  ramble. 

'Well,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Alston,  smiling 
significantly,  "  I  think  I  understand  her  symp 
toms  better  than  you  do.  If  you  are  as  cold 
blooded  as  you  seem  I  may  have  to  interfere." 
"  O  bah  !"  he  answered  impatiently.  "  Par 
don  me,  but  I  should  despise  myself  forever 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  27 

should  I  become  sentimental,  knowing  what  I 
do." 

"Jack,  had  you  no  compunctions  when 
fearing  that  such  a  beautiful  girl  might  perish  ? 
We  -are  going  to  have  an  awful  night.  Hear  the 
wind  whistle  and  moan,  and  the  sky  is  already 
black  with  clouds.  The  roar  of  the  surf  grows 
louder  every  hour.  Think  of  that  lovely  form 
being  out  in  those  black,  angry  waves,  darted 
at  and  preyed  upon  by  horrible  slimy  monsters. 
Oh,  it  fairly  makes  my  flesh  creep  !" 

"  And  mine,  too,"  he  said,  with  a  strong 
gesture  of  disgust  ;  "  especially  when  I  re 
member  that  I  should  have  kept  her  company, 
for  of  course  I  could  not  return  without  her. 
I  confess  that  when  at  first  I  could  not  find  her 
I  was  fairly  sick  at  the  thought  of  her  fate. 
But  remember  how  uncalled  for  it  all  was — 
quite  as  much  so  as  that  poor  Will  Munson  is 
on  his  way  to  die  with  the  yellow  fever  like 
enough." 

"  Jack,"  said  his  cousin,  affectionately,  lay 
ing  her  hand  on  his  arm,  "  blessings  on  your 
courage  to-day.  If  what  might  have  happened 
so  easily  had  occurred,  I  could  never  have 


28  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 

looked  upon  the  sea  again  without  a  shudder. 
I  should  have  been  tormented  by  a  horrible 
memory  all  my  life.  It  was  brave  and 
noble — " 

"Oh,  hush!"  he  said  angrily.  "I  won't 
hear  another  word  about  it  even  from  you. 
I'm  not  brave  and  noble.  I  went  because  I 
was  compelled  to  go  ;  I  hated  to  go  ;  I  hate 
the  girl,  and  have  more  reason  now  than  ever. 
If  we  had  both  drowned,  no  doubt  there  would 
have  been  less  trouble  in  the  world.  There 
would  have  deen  one  lawyer  the  less,  and  ? 
coquette  extinguished.  Now  we  shall  both 
prey  on  society  in  our  different  ways  indefi 
nitely." 

4  Jack,    you     are     in     an    awful    mood    to 
day. " 

"  I  am — never  was  in  a  worse." 

"  Having  so  narrowly  escaped  death  you 
ought  to  be  subdued  and  grateful." 

44  On  the  contrary,  I'm  inclined  to  profanity. 
Excuse  me — don't  wish  any  dessert.  I'll  try  a 
walk  and  a  cigar.  You  will  now  be  glad  to  be 
rid  of  me  on  any  terms." 

54  Stay,   Jack.     See,  Miss  Van  Tyne  has  so 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  29 

far  recovered  as  to  come  down.  She  looked 
unutterable  things  toward  you  as  she  en 
tered." 

"  Of  course  she  did.  Very  few  of  her 
thoughts  concerning  me  or  other  young  men 
would  sound  well  if  uttered.  Tell  your  friends 
to  let  this  topic  alone,  or  I  shall  be  rude  to 
them,"  and  without  a  glance  toward  the  girl 
he  had  rescued  he  left  the  dining-room. 

o 

4  Well,  well,"  murmured  Mrs.  Alston,  "I 
never  saw  Jack  in  such  a  mood  before.  It  is 
quite  as  unaccountable  as  Miss  Van  Tyne's 
recklessness.  I  wonder  what  is  the  matter 
with  him." 

Ackland  was  speedily  driven  back  from  his 
walk  by  the  rain,  which  fact  he  did  not  regret,  for 
he  found  himself  exhausted  and  depressed. 
Seeking  a  retired  piazza  in  order  to  be  alone, 
he  sat  down  with  his  hat  drawn  over  his  eyes 
and  smoked  furiously.  Before  very  long,  how 
ever,  he  was  startled  out  of  a  painful  reverie 
by  a  timid  voice  saying  : 

11  Mr.  Ackland,  won't  you  permit  me  to 
thank  you  ?" 

He  rose,  and  Miss  Van  Tyne  stood  before 


30  AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT 

him    with    outstretched    hand.      He    did    not 
notice  it,  but  bowing  coldly,  said  : 

"  Please  consider  that  you  have  thanked  me 
and  let  the  subject  drop." 

"  Do  not  be  so  harsh  with  me,"  she  plead 
ed.      "I  cannot  help  it  if  you  are.      Mr.  Ack- 
land,  you  saved  my  life." 
"  Possibly." 

"  And  possibly  you  think  that  it  is  scarcely 
worth  saving." 

"Possibly  your  own  conscience  suggested 
that  thought  to  you." 

"You  are  heartless,"  she  burst  out  indig 
nantly. 

He  began  to  laugh.  "  That's  a  droll  charge 
for  you  to  make,"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  him  steadfastly  for  a  moment, 
and  then  murmured:  "You  are  thinking  of 
your  friend  Mr.  Munson." 

"  That  would  be  quite  natural.  How  many 
more  can  you  think  of?" 

"  You  are  indeed  unrelenting,"  she  faltered, 
tears  coming  into  her  eyes;  "but  I  cannot 
forget  that  but  for  you  I  should  now  be  out 
there" — and  she  indicated  the  sea  by  a  gest 


AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT.  31 

ure,  then  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
shuddered. 

"  Do  not  feel  under  obligations.  I  should 
have  been  compelled  to  do  as  much  for  any 
human  being.  You  seem  to  forget  that  I  stood 
an  even  chance  of  being  out  there  with  you, 
and  that  there  was  no  more  need  of  the  risk 
than  there  was  that  my  best  friend's  life  should 
be  blight—" 

'You — you   out  there  ?"  she   cried,  spring 
ing  toward  him  and  pointing  to  the  sea. 

"  Certainly.  You  cannot  suppose  that,  hav 
ing  once  found  you,  I  could  come  ashore  with 
out  you.  As  it  was  my  strength  was  rapidly 
giving  way,  and  were  it  not  for  the  rope — ' 

"  Oh,  forgive  me,"  she  cried,  passionately 
seizing  his  hand  in  spite  of  him.  "It  never 
entered  my  mind  that  you  could  drown.  I 
somehow  felt  that  nothing  could  harm  you.  I 
was  reckless — I  didn't  know  what  I  was  doine 

c> 

—I  don't  understand  myself  any  more.  Please 
—please  forgive  me,  or  I  shall  not  sleep  to 
night." 

"Certainly,"  he  said  lightly,  "if  you  will 
not  refer  to  our  little  episode  again." 


32  AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT. 

ft  Please  don't  speak  in  that  way,"  she  sigh« 
ed,  turning  away. 

"  I  have  complied  with  your  request." 

"  I  suppose  I  must  be  content,"  she  resum-  „ 
ed  sadly.      Then  turning  her  head  slowly  tow 
ard   him  she  added,   hesitatingly,    "  Will  you 
forgive  me  for, — for  treating  your  friend— 

"  No,"  he  replied,  with  such  stern  emphasis 
that  she  shrank  from  him  and  trembled. 

*  You  are  indeed  heartless,"  she  faltered,  as 
she  turned  to  leave  him. 

"  Miss  Van  Tyne,"  he  said  indignantly, 
"  twice  you  have  charged  me  with  being  heart 
less.  Your  voice  and  manner  indicate  that  I 
would  be  unnatural  and  unworthy  of  respect 
were  I  what  you  charge.  In  the  name  of  all 
that's  rational  what  does  this  word  '  heartless  ' 
mean  to  you  ?  Where  was  your  heart  when 
you  sent  my  friend  away  so  wretched  and  hum 
bled  that  he  is  virtually  seeking  the  death  from 
which  you  are  so  glad  to  escape  ?" 

"  I  did  not  love  him,"  she  protested  faintly. 

He  laughed  bitterly,  and  continued  :  "  Love  ! 
That's  a  word  which  I  believe  has  no  meaning 
for  you  at  all,  but  it  had  for  him.  You  are  a 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  33 

remarkably  clever  woman,  Miss  Van  Tyne. 
You  have  brains  in  abundance.  See,  I  do  you 
justice.  What  is  more  you  are  so  beautiful 
and  can  be  so  fascinating  that,  a  man  who 
believed  in  you  might  easily  worship  you. 
You  made  him  believe  in  you.  You  tried  to 
beguile  me  into  a  condition  triett  with  my  nat 
ure  would  be  ruin  indeed.  You  never  had  the 
baby  plea  of  a  silly,  shallow  woman.  I  took 
pains  to  find  that  out  the  first  evening  we  met. 
In  your  art  of  beguiling  an  honest,  trusting 
man  you  were  as  perfect  as  you  were  remorse 
less,  and  you  understood  exactly  what  you 
were  doing." 

For  a  time  she  seemed  overwhelmed  by  his 
lava-like  torrent  of  words,  and  stood  with 
bowed  head  and  a  shrinking,  trembling  form, 
but  when  he  ceased  she  turned  to  him  and 
said,  bitterly  and  emphatically  : 

"  I  did  not  understand  what  1  was  doing, 
nor  would  my  brain  have  taught  me  were  I  all 
intellect  like  yourself.  I  half  wish  you  had 
left  me  to  drown,"  and  with  a  slight  despair 
ing  gesture  she  turned  away  and  did  not  look 
back. 


34  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 

Ackland's  face  lighted  up  with  a  sudden 
flash  of  intelligence  and  deep  feeling.  He 
started  to  recall  her,  hesitated  and  watched 
her  earnestly  until  she  disappeared  ;  then  look 
ing  out  on  the  scowling  ocean,  he  took  off  his 
hat  and  exclaimed  in  a  deep,  low  tone  : 

By  all  that's  divine,  can  this  be  ?  Is  it  pos 
sible  that  through  the  suffering  of  her  own 
awakening  heart  she  is  learning  to  know  the 
pain  she  has  given  to  others  ?  Should  this  be 
true,  the  affair  is  taking  an  entirely  new  aspect, 
and  Munson  will  be  avenged  as  neither  of  us 
ever  dreamed  would  be  possible." 

He  resumed  his  old  position  and  thought 
long  and  deeply,  then  rejoined  his  cousin,  who 
was  somewhat  surprised  to  find  that  his  bitter 
mood  had  given  place  to  his  former  compos 
ure. 

"  How  is  this,  Jack?"  she  asked.  "  As  the 
storm  grows  wilder  without,  you  become  more 
serene." 

"  Only  trying  to  make  amends  for  my 
former  bearishness, "  he  said  carelessly,  but 
with  a  little  rising  color. 

"  I  don't   understand  you   at  all,"   she  con- 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  35 

tinued,  discontentedly.  "  I  saw  you  sulking 
in  that  out-of-the-way  corner,  and  I  saw  Miss 
Van  Tyne  approach  you  hesitatingly  and 
timidly  with  the  purpose  no  doubt  of  thank 
ing  you.  Of  course  I  did  not  stay  to  watch, 
but  a  little  later  I  met  Miss  Van  Tyne,  and 
she  looked  white  and  rigid.  She  has  not  left 
her  room  since. " 

"You  take  a  great  interest  in  Miss  Van 
Tyne.  It  is  well  you  are  not  in  my  place." 

"  I  half  wish  I  was  and  had  your  chances. 
You  are  more  pitiless  than  the  waves  from 
which  you  saved  her." 

14  I  can't  help  being  just  what  I  am,"  he  said 
coldly.  "  Good-night."  And  he  too  disap 
peared  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

The  rain  continued  to  fall  in  blinding  torrents 
and  the  building  fairly  trembled  under  the 
violence  of  the  wind.  The  guests  drew 
together  in  the  lighted  rooms,  and  sought  by 
varied  amusements  to  pass  the  time  until  the 
fierceness  of  the  storm  abated,  few  caring  to  re 
tire  while  the  uproar  of  the  elements  was  so 
great. 

At  last  as  the  storm  passed  away,  and  the  late 


36  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 

rising  moon  threw  a  sickly  gleam  on  the  tumul 
tuous  waters,  Eva  looked  from  her  window 
with  sleepless  eyes,  thinking  sadly  and  bitterly 
of  the  past  and  future.  Suddenly  a  dark  figure 
appeared  on  the  beach  in  the  track  of  the 
moonlight.  She  snatched  an  opera-glass,  but 
could  not  recognize  the  solitary  form.  The 
thought  would  come,  however,  that  it  was 
Ackland,  and  if  it  were,  what  were  his  thoughts 
and  what  place  had  she  in  them  ?  Why  was 
he  watching  so  near  the  spot  that  might  have 
been  their  burial-place  ? 

"  At  least  he  shall  not  think  that  I  can  stol 
idly  sleep  after  what  has  occurred,"  she  thought, 
and  she  turned  up  her  light,  opened  her  win 
dow  and  sat  down  by  it  again.  Whoever  the 
unseasonable  rambler  might  be  he  appeared  to 
recognize  the  gleam  from  her  window,  for  he 
walked  hastily  down  the  beach  and  disappear 
ed.  After  a  time  she  darkened  her  room 
again  and  waited  in  vain  for  his  return.  "  If 
it  were  he,  he  shuns  even  the  slightest  recogni 
tion,"  she  thought  despairingly,  and  the  early 
dawn  was  not  far  distant  when  she  fell  into  an 
unquiet  sleep. 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  37 

For  the  next  few  days  Miss  Van  Tyne  was  a 
puzzle  to  all  except  Mrs.  Alston.  She  was 
quite  unlike  the  girl  she  had  formerly  been  and 
she  made  no  effort  to  disguise  the  fact.  In 
the  place  of  her  old  exuberance  of  life  and 
spirits,  there  were  lassitude  and  great  depres 
sion.  The  rich  color  ebbed  steadily  from  her 
face,  and  dark  lines  under  her  eyes  betokened 
sleepless  nights.  She  saw  the  many  curious 
glances  directed  toward  her,  but  apparently 
did  not  care  what  was  thought  or  surmised. 
Were  it  not  that  her  manner  toward  Ackland 
was  so  misleading  the  tendency  to  couple 
their  names  together  would  have  been  far  more 
general.  She  neither  sought  nor  shunned  his 
society,  and  in  fact  treated  him  as  she  did  the 
other  gentlemen  of  her  acquaintance.  She 
took  him  at  his  word.  He  had  said  he  would 
forgive  her  on  condition  that  she  would  not 
speak  of  what  he  was  pleased  to  term  that 
"  little  episode,"  and  she  never  referred  to  it. 

Her  aunt  was  as  much  at  fault-  as  the 
others,  and  one  day  querulously  complained  to 
Mrs.  Alston  that  she  was  growing  anxious  about 
Eva.  "  At  first  I  thought  she  was  disappoint- 


?8  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 

ed  over  the  indifference  of  that  icy  cousin  of 
yours,  but  she  does  not  appear  to  care  a  straw 
for  him.  When  I  mention  his  name  she  speaks 
of  him  in  a  natural,  grateful  way,  then  her 
thoughts  appear  to  wander  off  to  some  matter 
that  is  troubling  her.  I  can't  find  out  whether 
she  is  ill  or  whether  she  has  heard  some  bad 
news  of  which  she  will  not  speak.  She  never 
gave  me  or  any  one  that  I  know  of  much  of  her 
confidence." 

Mrs.  Alston  listened  but  made  no  comments. 
She  was  sure  she  was  right  in  regard  to  Miss 
Van  Tyne's  trouble,  but  her  cousin  mystified 
her.  Ackland  had  become  perfectly  inscru 
table.  As  far  as  she  could  judge  by  any  word 
or  act  of  his  he  had  simply  lost  his  interest  in 
Miss  Van  Tyne,  and  that  was  all  that  could  be 
said,  and  yet  a  fine  instinct  tormented  Mrs. 
Alston  with  the  doubt  that  this  was  not  true 
and  that  the  young  girl  was  the  subject  of  a 
sedulously  concealed  scrutiny.  Was  he  watch 
ing  for  his  friend  or  for  his  own  sake,  or  was 
he,  in  a  spirit  of  retaliation,  enjoying  the  suffer 
ing  of  one  who  had  made  others  suffer  ?  His 
reserve  was  so  great  that  she  could  not  pierce 


AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT.  39 

it,  and  his  caution  baffled  even  her  vigilance. 
But  she  waited  patiently,  assured  that  the  little 
drama  must  soon  pass  into  a  more  significant 

phase. 

And  she  was  right.      Miss  Van   Tyne   could 
not  maintain  the  line  of  action  she  had  resolv 
ed  upon.     She  had  thought,  "  I  won't  try  to 
appear  happy  when  I   am   not.      I  won't  adopt 
the    conventional    mask  of   gayety    when    the 
heart   is  wounded.       How   often   I   have   seen 
through  it  and  smiled  at  the  transparent  farce 
—farce  it   seemed  then,  but  I  now  fear  it   was 
often  tragedy.     At  any  rate  there  was  neither 
dignity  nor  deception  in  it.      I  have  done  with 
being  false,  and  so  shall  simply  act  myself  and 
be  a  lady.     Though    my  heart  break  a  thou 
sand  times,   not  even  by  a  glance  shall  I  show 
that  it  is  breaking  for  him.      If  he   or  others 
surmise  the  truth  they  may.    Let  them.     It  is  a 
part  of  my  penance,  and  I  will  show  the  higher, 
stronger  pride  of  one  who  makes  no  vain,  use 
less  pretence  to  happy  indifference,  but  who  can 
maintain   a  self-control   so  perfect    that   even 
Mrs.  Alston  shall  not  see  one  unmaidenly  ad 
vance  or  overture." 


40  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 

And  she  succeeded  for  a  time  as  we  have 
seen,  but  she  overrated  her  will  and  underrated 
her  heart  that  with  a  deepening  intensity 
craved  the  love  denied  her.  With  increasing 
frequency  she  said  to  herself,  "  I  must  go 
away.  My  only  course  is  to  hide  my  weakness 
and  never  see  him  again.  He  is  inflexible, 
and  yet  his  very  obduracy  increases  my  love  a 
hundredfold." 

At  last  after  a  lonely  walk  on  the  beach  she 
concluded  :  "  My  guardian  must  take  me  home 
on  Monday  next.  He  comes  to-night  to 
spend  Sunday  with  us,  and  I  will  make  prepara 
tions  to  go  at  once." 

Although  her  resolution  did  not  fail  her  she 
walked  forward  more  and  more  slowly,  and 
her  dejection  and  weariness  were  almost  over 
powering.  As  she  was  turning  a  sharp  angle 
of  rocks  that  jutted  well  down  toward  the  water 
she  came  face  to  face  with  Ackland  and  Mrs. 
Alston.  She  was  off  her  guard,  and  her 
thoughts  of  him  had  been  so  absorbing  that 
she  felt  he  rpust  be  conscious  of  them.  She 
flushed  painfully,  and  at  first  it  seemed  that 
she  would  hurry  by  with  slight  recognitioi?  and 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  41 

downcast  face,  but  she  had  scarcely  passed 
them  before,  acting  under  a  sudden  impulse, 
she  stopped  and  said  in  a  low  tone  : 

"Mr.  Ackland— " 

He  turned  expectantly  toward  her,  and  she 
either  forgot  or  ignored  Mrs.  Alston.  For  a 
moment  she  found  it  difficult  to  speak,  and 
then  her  face  became  pale  and  resolute. 

"  Mr.  Ackland,  I  must  refer  once  more  to  a 
topic  which  you  have  in  a  sense  forbidden.  I 
feel  partially  absolved,  however,  for  I  do  not 
think  you  have  forgiven  me  anything.  At  any 
rate  I  must  ask  your  pardon  once  more  for 
having  so  needlessly  and  foolishly  imperilled 
your  life.  I  say  these  words  now  because  I 
may  not  have  another  opportunity  ;  we  leave 
on  Monday."  And  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his 
with  an  appeal  for  a  little  kindness  which  Mrs.  ; 
Alston  was  confident  could  not  be  resisted. 
Indeed  she  was  sure  that  she  saw  a  slight  ner 
vous  tremor  in  Ackland's  hands  as  if  he  found 
it  hard  to  control  himself.  Then  he  appeared 
to  grow  rigid.  Lifting  his  hat  he  said  gravely 
and  unresponsively  : 

"  Miss  VanTyne,  you  now  surely  have  made 


4?  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 

ample     amends.     Please     forget     the     whole 
affair." 

She  turned  from  him  at  once,  but  not  so 
quickly  but  that  both  he  and  his  cousin  saw 
the  bitter  tears  that  would  come.  A  moment 
later  she  was  hidden  by  the  angle  of  the  rock. 
As  long  as  she  was  visible  Ackland  watched 
her  without  moving,  and  then  he  slowly  turned 
toward  his  cousin  and  his  face  was  as  inscrutable 
as  ever.  She  walked  at  his  side  for  a  few 
moments  in  ill-concealed  impatience,  then  stop 
ped  and  said  decisively  : 

**  I'll  go  no  farther  with  you  to-day.  I  am 
losing  all  respect  for  you." 

Without  speaking  he  turned  to  accompany 
her  back  to  the  house.  His  reticence  and  cold 
ness  appeared  to  annoy  her  beyond  endurance, 
for  she  soon  stopped  and  sat  down  on  a  ledge 
of  the  rocks  that  jutted  down  the  beach  where 
they  had  met  Miss  Van  Tyne. 

'  John,  you  are  the  most  unnatural  man  I 
ever  saw  in  my  life,"  she  began  angrily. 

'  What  reason  have  you  for  so  flattering  an 
opinion,"  he  asked  coolly. 

"  You  have  been  giving  reason  for  it  every 


AN   UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  43 

day  since  you  came  here,"  she  resumed  hotly. 
"  I  always  heard  it  said  that  you  had  no  heart, 
but  I  defended  you  and  declared  that  your 
course  toward  your  mother  even  when  a  boy 
showed  that  you  had,  and  that  you  would 
prove  it  some  day.  But  I  now  believe  that 
you  are  unnaturally  cold,  heartless  and  unfeel 
ing.  I  had  no  objection  to  your  wounding 
Miss  Van  Tyne's  vanity  and  encouraged  you 
when  that  alone  bid  fair  to  suffer.  But  when 
she  proved  she  had  a  heart  and  that  you  had 
awakened  it,  she  deserved  at  least  kindness 
and  consideration  on  your  part.  If  you  could 
not  return  her  affection,  you  should  have  gone 
away  at  once.  But  I  believe  that  you  have 
stayed  for  the  sole  and  cruel  purpose  of  gloat 
ing  over  her  suffering." 

11  She  has  not  suffered  more  than  my  friend 
or  than  I  would  if — " 

"  You  indeed  !  The  idea  of  you  suffering 
from  any  such  cause  !  I  half  believe  you  came 
here  with  the  deliberate  purpose  of  avenging 
your  friend,  and  that  you  are  keeping  for  his 
inspection  a  diary  in  which  the  poor  girl's  hu- 
rr-iliation  to-day  will  form  the  hateful  climax.' 


44  AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT. 

They  did  not  dream  that  the  one  most  inter« 
ested  was  near.  Miss  Van  Tyne  had  felt  too 
faint  and  sorely  wounded  to  go  farther  without 
rest.  Believing  that  the  rocks  would  hide  her 
from  those  whose  eyes  she  would  most  wish  to 
shun,  she  had  thrown  herself  down  beyond  the 
angle  and  was  shedding  the  bitterest  tears  that 
she  had  ever  known.  Suddenly  she  heard 
Mrs.  Alston's  words  but  a  short  distance  away, 
and  was  so  overcome  by  their  import  that  she 
hesitated  what  to  do.  She  would  not  meet 
them  again  for  the  world,  but  felt  so  weak  that 
she  doubted  whether  she  could  drag  herself 
away  without  being  discovered,  especially  as 
the  beach  trended  off  to  the  left  so  sharply  a 
little  farther  on  that  they  might  discover  her. 
While  she  was  looking  vainly  for  some  way  of 
escape  she  heard  Ackland's  words  and  Mrs. 
Alston's  surmise  in  reply  that  he  had  come 
with  the  purpose  of  revenge.  She  was  so 
stung  by  their  apparent  truth  that  she  resolved 
to  clamber  up  through  an  opening  of  the  rocks 
if  the  thing  were  possible.  Panting  and  ex 
hausted  she  gained  the  summit,  and  then 
hastened  to  an  adjacent  grove,  as  some  wound- 


AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT.  45 

ed,  timid  creature  would  run  to  the  nearest 
cover.  Ackland  had  heard  sounds  and  had 
stepped  around  the  point  of  the  rocks  just  in 
time  to  see  her  disappearing  above  the  bank. 
Returning  to  Mrs.  Alston  he  said  impatiently  : 

4  In  view  of  your  opinions  my  society  can 
have  no  attractions  for  you.  Shall  I  accom 
pany  you  to  the  hotel  ?" 

44  No,"  was  the  angry  reply.  "I'm  in  no 
mood  to  speak  to  you  again  to-day." 

He  merely  bowed  and  turned  as  if  to  pursue 
his  walk.  The  moment  she  was  hidden,  how 
ever,  he  also  climbed  the  rocks  in  time  to  see 
Miss  Van  Tyne  entering  the  grove.  With 
swift  and  silent  tread  he  followed  her,  but  could 
not  at  once  discover  her  hiding-place.  At  last 
passionate  sobs  made  it  evident  that  she  was 
concealed  behind  a  great  oak  a  little  on  his 
left.  Approaching  cautiously  he  heard  her 
moan  : 

44  Oh,  this  is  worse  than  death  !  He  makes 
me  feel  as  if  even  God  had  no  mercy  for  me. 
But  I  will  expiate  my  wrong-  —I  will,  at  the 
bitterest  sacrifice  which  a  woman  can  make." 

She  sprang  up  and  Ackland  stood  before  her 


46  AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT. 

with  folded  arms.  .  She  started  violently  and 
leaned  against  the  tree  for  support.  But  the 
weakness  was  momentary,  for  she  wiped  the 
tears  from  her  eyes,  and  then  turned  toward 
him  so  quietly  that  only  her  extreme  pallor 
proved  that  she  realized  the  import  of  her 
words. 

"  Mr.  Ackland,"  she  asked,  "  have  you  Mr. 
Munson's  address  ?" 

It  was  his  turn  now  to  start,  but  he  merely 
answered,  "  Yes." 

"  Do — do  you  think  he  still  cares  for  me  ?" 
Undoubtedly." 

"  Since  then  you  are  so  near  a  friend,  will 
you  write  to  him  that  I  will  try" — she  turned 
away  and  would  not  look  at  him  as,  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  she  concluded  her  sen 
tence-—"  I  will  try  to  make  him  as  happy  as  I 
can." 

"Do  you  regret  your  course?"  he  asked, 
with  a  slight  tremor  in  his  voice. 

'  I  regret  that  I  misled — that  I  wronged  him 
beyond  all   words.      I   am  willing  to  make  all 
the  amends  in  my  power." 
Do  you  love  him  ?" 


AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT.  47 

She  now  turned  wholly  away  and  shook  her 
head. 

"  And  yet  you  would  marry  him  ?" 

' '  Yes,  if  he  wished  it,  knowing  all  the 
truth." 

"Can  you  believe  he  would  wish  it?"  he 
asked  indignantly.  "  Can  you  believe  that 
any  man — 

"  Then  avenge  him  to  your  cruel  soul's  con 
tent,"  she  exclaimed  passionately.  '  Tell 
him  that  I  have  no  heart  to  give  to  him  or  to 
any  one.  Through  no  effort  or  fault  of  mine  I 
overheard  Mrs.  Alston's  words  and  yours.  I 
know  your  design  against  me.  Assuage  your 
friend's  grief  by  assuring  him  of  your  entire 
success  of  which  you  are  already  so  well  aware. 
Tell  him  how  you  triumphed  over  an  untaught, 
thoughtless  girl  who  was  impelled  merely  by 
the  love  of  power  and  excitement  as  you  are 
governed  by  ambition  and  a  remorseless  will. 
I  did  not  know — I  did  not  understand  how 
cruel  I  was,  although  now  that  I  do  know  I 
shall  never  forgive  myself.  But  if  you  had  the 
heart  of  a  man  you  might  have  seen  that  you 
were  subjecting  me  to  torture.  I  did  not  ask 


48  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 

or  expect  that  you  should  care  for  me,  but  I 
had  a  right  to  hope  for  a  little  kindness,  a  little 
manly  and  delicate  consideration,  a  little  heal 
ing  sympathy  for  the  almost  mortal  wound 
that  you  have  made.  But  I  now  see  that  you 
have  stood  by  and  watched  like  a  grand  in 
quisitor.  Tell  your  friend  that  you  have 
transferred  the  thoughtless  girl  into  a  suffering 
woman.  I  cannot  go  to  Brazil.  I  cannot 
face  dangers  that  might  bring  rest.  I  must 
keep  my  place  in  society —keep  it  too  under  a 
hundred  observant  and  curious  eyes.  You 
have  seen  it  all  of  late  in  this  house  ;  I  was  too 
wretched  to  care.  It  was  a  part  of  my  pun 
ishment,  and  I  accepted  it.  I  would  not  be 
false  again  even  in  trying  to  conceal  a  secret 
which  it  is  like  death  to  a  woman  to  reveal.  I 
only  craved  one  word  of  kindness  from  you. 
Had  I  received  it  I  would  have  gone  away  in 
silence  and  suffered  in  silence.  But  your  couise 
and  what  I  have  heard  have  made  me  reckless 
and  despairing,  You  do  not  leave  me  even 
the  poor  consolation  of  self-sacrifice.  You  are 
my  stony-hearted  fate.  I  wish  you  had  left 
me  to  drown.  Tell  your  friend  that  I  am  more 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  49 

wretched  than  he  ever  can  be,  because  I  am  a 
woman.     Will  he  be  satisfied  ?" 

"  He  ought  to  be,''  was  the  low,  husky 
reply. 

"  Are  you  proud  of  your  triumph  ?" 

14  No,  I  am  heartily  ashamed  of  it  ;  but  1 
have  kept  a  pledge  that  will  probably  cost  me 
far  more  than  it  has  you  " 

"A  pledge?" 

"  Yes,  my  pledge  to  make  you  suffer  as  far 
as  possible  as  he  suffered." 

She  put  her  hand  to  her  side  as  if  she  had  re 
ceived  a  wound,  and  after  a  momerit  said  wea 
rily  and  coldly : 

44  Well,  tell  him  that  you  succeeded,  and  be 
content,"  and  she  turned  to  leave  him. 

:<  Stay,"  he  cried  impetuously.  It  is  now 
your  turn.  Take  your  revenge/ 

4<  My  revenge?'  she  repeated  in  unfeigned 
astonishment, 

4  Yes,  your  revenge.  I  have  loved  you  from 
the  moment  I  hoped  you  had  a  woman's  heart, 
yes  and  before — when  1  feared  I  might  not  be 
able  to  save  your  life.  I  know  it  now,  though 
the  very  thought  of  it  enraged  me  then.  I 


50  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 

have  watched  and  waited  more  to  be  sure  that 
you  had  a  woman's  heart  than  for  aught  else, 
though  a  false  sense  of  honor  kept  me  true  to 
my  pledge.  After  I  met  you  on  the  beach  I 
determined  at  once  to  break  my  odious  bond 
and  place  myself  at  your  mercy.  You  may 
refuse  me  in  view  of  my  course — you  probably 
will  ;  but  every  one  in  that  house  there  shall 
know  that  you  refused  me,  and  your  triumph 
shall  be  more  complete  than  mine." 

She  looked  into  his  face  with  an  expression 
of  amazement  and  doubt,  but  instead  of  cold 
ness,  there  was  now  a  devotion  and  pleading 
that  she  had  never  seen  before. 

She  was  too  confused  and  astounded,  how 
ever,  to  comprehend  his  words  immediately, 
nor  could  the  impression  of  his  hostility 
toward  her  pass  away  readily. 

"You  are  mocking  me,"  she  faltered, 
scarcely  knowing  what  she  said. 

I  cannot  blame  you  that  you  think  me 
capable  of  mocking  the  noble  candor  which 
has  cost  you  so  dear,  as  I  can  now  understand. 
I  cannot  ask  you  to  believe  that  I  appreciate 
your  heroic  impulse  of  self-sacrifice — your  pur> 


AN  UNEXPECTED   RESULT.  51 

pose  to  atone  for  wrong  by  inflicting  irreparable 
wrong  on  yourself.  It  is  natural  that  you 
should  think  of  me  only  as  an  instrument  of 
revenge  with  no  more  feeling  than  some  keen 
edged  weapon  would  have.  This  also  is  the 
inevitable  penalty  of  my  course.  When  I 
speak  of  my  love  I  cannot  complain  if  you 
smile  in  bitter  incredulity.  But  I  have  at  least 
proved  that  I  have  a  resolute  will  and  that  I 
keep  my  word,  and  I  again  assure  you  that  it 
shall  be  known  this  very  night  that  you  have 
refused  me,  that  I  offered  you  my  hand,  that 
you  already  had  my  heart  where  your  image  is 
enshrined  with  that  of  my  mother,  and  that  I 
entreated  you  to  be  my  wife.  My  cousin  alone 
guessed  my  miserable  triumph  ;  all  shall  know 
of  yours." 

As  he  spoke  with  impassioned  earnestness 
the  confusion  passed  from  her  mind,  she  felt 
the  truth  of  his  words,  she  knew  that  her  ambi 
tious  dream  had  been  fulfilled,  and  that  she  had 
achieved  the  conquest  of  a  man  upon  whom 
all  others  had  smiled  in  vain.  But  how  im 
measurably  different  were  her  emotions  from 
those  which  she  had  once  anticipated  ;  not  her 


52  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 

beauty,  not  her  consummate  skill  in  fascination 
had  wrought  this  miracle,  but  her  woman's 
heart,  awakened  at  last  ;  and  it  had  thrilled 
with  such  an  unspeakable  joy  that  she  had 
turned  away  to  hide  its  reflex  in  her  face.  He 
was  misled  by  the  act  into  believing  that  she 
could  not  forgive  him,  and  yet  was  perplexed 
when  she  murmured  with  a  return  of  her  old 
piquant  humor, 

'  You  are  mistaken,  Mr.  Ackland  ;  it  shall 
never  be  known  that  I  refused  you." 

"  How  can  you  prevent  it  ?" 

"  If  your  words  are  sincere,  you  will  submit 
to  such  terms  as  I  choose  to  make." 

44  I  am  sincere,  and  my  actions  shall  prove  it, 
but  I  shall  permit  no  mistaken  self  sacrifice  on 
your  part,  nor  any  attempt  to  shield  me  from 
the  punishment  I  well  deserve." 

She  suddenly  turned  upon  him  a  radiant  face 
in  which  he  read  his  happiness,  and  faltered  : 

"  Jack,  I  do  believe  you,  although  the 
change  seems  wrought  by  some  heavenly 
magic.  But  it  will  take  a  long  time  to  pay  you 
up.  I  hope  to  be  your  dear  torment  for  a  life 
time.  " 


AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT.  53 

He.  caught  her  in  such  a  strong,   impetuous 
embrace  that  she  gasped  : 

"  I  thought   you    were  —  cold    toward    our 


"  It's  not  your  sex  that  l  am  clasping,  but 
you  —  you,  my  Eve.  Like  the  first  man,  I  have 
won  my  bride  under  the  green  trees  and 
beneath  the  open  sky." 

'  Yes,  Jack,  and  I  give  you  my  whole 
heart  as  truly  as  did  the  first  woman  when 
there  was  but  one  man  in  all  the  world.  That 
is  my  revenge. 

This  is  what  Will  Munson  wrote  some  weeks 
later  : 

"  Well,  Jack,  I've  had  the  yellow  fever, 
and  it  was  the  most  fortunate  event  of  my 
life.  I  was  staying  with  a  charming  family, 
and  they  would  not  permit  my  removal  to  a 
hospital.  One  of  my  bravest  and  most  de 
voted  nurses  has  consented  to  become  my 
wife.  I  hope  you  punished  that  little  wretch 
Eva  Van  Tyne  as  she  deserved." 

"  Confound  your  fickle  soul  !"  muttered 
Ackland.  "  I  punished  her  as  she  did  not  de 
serve,  and  I  risked  more  than  life  in  doing  so. 
If  her  heart  had  not  been  as  good  as  gold  and 


54  AN  UNEXPECTED  RESULT. 

as  kind  as  Heaven  she  never  would  have  look 
ed  at  me  again." 

Ackland  is  quite  as  indifferent  to  the  sex  as 
ever,  but  Eva  has  never  complained  that  ne 
was  cold  toward  her. 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  WAR 
TIMES. 


II. 

CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 


IT  was  the  beginning  of  a  battle.  The 
skirmish  line  of  the  Union  advance  was  sweep- 
ing  rapidly  over  a  rough  mountainous  region  in 
the  South,  and  in  his  place  on  the  extreme  left 
of  this  line  was  Private  Anson  Marlow.  Tall 
trees  rising  from  underbrush,  rocks,  boulders, 
gulches  worn  by  spring  torrents,  were  the  charac 
teristics  of  the  field,  which  was  in  wild  contrast 
with  the  parade-grounds  on  which  the  combat 
ants  had  first  learned  the  tactics  of  war.  The 
majority,  however,  of  those  now  in  the  ranks 
had  since  been  drilled  too  often  under  like  cir 
cumstances,  and  with  lead  and  iron-shotted 
guns,  not  to  know  their  duty,  and  the  lines  of 
battle  were  as  regular  as  the  broken  country  al 
lowed.  So  far  as  many  obstacles  permitted 


5^          CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES. 

Marlow  kept  his  proper  distance  from  the 
others  on  the  line  and  fired  coolly  when  he 
caught  glimpses  of  the  retreating  Confederate 
skirmishers.  They  were  retiring  with  ominous 
readiness  toward  a  wooded  height  which  the 
enemy  occupied  with  a  force  of  unknown 
strength.  That  strength  was  soon  manifested 
in  temporary  disaster  to  the  Union  forces, 
which  were  driven  back  with  heavy  loss. 

Neither  the  battle  nor  its  fortunes  are  the 
objects  of  our  present  concern,  but  rather  the 
fate  of  Private  Marlow.  The  tide  of  battle 
drifted  away  and  left  the  soldier  desperately 
wounded,  in  a  narrow  ravine,  through  which 
babbled  a  small  stream.  Excepting  the  voices 
of  his  wife  and  children,  no  music  had  ever 
sounded  so  sweetly  in  his  ears.  With  great 
difficulty  he  crawled  to  a  little  bubbling  pool 
formed  by  a  tiny  cascade  and  encircling  stones, 
and  partially  slaked  his  intolerable  thirst. 

He  believed  he  was  dying — bleeding  to 
death.  The  very  thought  blunted  his  facul 
ties  for  a  time,  and  he  was  conscious  of  little 
beyond  a  dull  wonder.  Could  it  be  possible 
that  the  tragedy  of  his  death  was  enacting  in 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  WAR   TIMES.          59 

that  peaceful,  secluded  nook  ?  Could  nature 
be  so  indifferent  or  so  unconscious,  if  it  were 
true  that  he  was  soon  to  lie  there  dead?  He 
saw  the  speckled  trout  lying  motionless  at  the 
bottom  of  the  pool,  the  gray  squirrels  sporting 
in  the  boughs  over  his  head.  The  sunlight 
shimmered  and  glinted  through  the  leaves, 
flecking  with  light  his  prostrate  form.  He  dip 
ped  his  hand  in  the  blood  that  had  welled  from 
his  side  and  it  fell  in  rubies  from  his  fingers. 
Could  that  be  his  blood — his  life-blood,  and 
would  it  soon  all  ooze  away  ?  Could  it  be  that 
death  was  coming  through  all  the  brightness  of 
that  summer  afternoon  ? 

From  a  shadowed  tree  farther  up  the  glen, 
a  wood-thrush  suddenly  began  its  almost  un 
rivalled  song.  The  familiar  melody,  heard  so 
often  from  his  cottage-porch  in  the  June  twi 
light,  awoke  him  to  the  bitter  truth.  His  wife 
had  then  sat  beside  him,  while  his  little  ones 
played  here  and  there  among  the  trees  and 
shrubbery.  They  would  hear  the  same  song 
to-day  ;  he  would  never  hear  it  again.  That 
counted  for  little,  but  the  thought  of  their  sit 
ting  behind  the  vines  and  listening  to  their 


60          CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

favorite  bird,  spring  after  spring  and  summer 
after  summer,  and  he  ever  absent,  overwhelmed 
him. 

O   Gertrude,   my  wife,   my   wife  !     O  my 
children  !"  he  groaned. 

His  breast  heaved  with  a  great  sigh  ;  the 
blood  welled  afresh  from  his  wound  ;  what 
seemed  a  mortal  weakness  crept  over  him,  and 

he  thought  he  died. 

*#*•**** 

"  Say,  Eb,  is  he  done  gone?" 

'  'Clar  to  grashus  if  I  know.  'Pears  mighty 
like  it." 

These  words  were  spoken  by  two  stout 
negroes,  who  had  stolen  toward  the  battle-field 
as  the  sounds  of  conflict  died  away. 

"  I'm  doggoned  if  I  tink  he's  dead.  He's 
only  swoonded,"  asserted  the  man  addressed 
as  Eb.  'Twon't  do  to  lebe  'im  here  to  die, 
Zack." 

"  Sartin  not  ;  we'd  hab  bad  luck  all  our 
days." 

"  I  reckon  ole  man  Pearson  will  keep  him, 
and  his  wife's  a  po'ful  nuss. " 

44  Pearson  orter  ;  he's  a  Unioner. '' 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  WAR  TIMES.         61 

"  S'pose  we  try  him  ;  'tain't  so  bery  fur 
off." 

On  the  morning  of  the  24th  of  December, 
Mrs.  Anson  Marlow  sat  in  the  living-room  of 
her  cottage,  that  stood  well  out  in  the  suburbs 
of  a  Northern  town.  Her  eyes  were  hollow 
and  full  of  trouble  that  seemed  almost  beyond 
tears,  and  the  bare  room,  that  had  been  strip 
ped  of  nearly  every  appliance  and  suggestion 
of  comfort,  but  too  plainly  indicated  one  of 
the  causes.  Want  was  stamped  on  her  thin 
face,  that  once  had  been  so  full  and  pretty  : 
poverty  in  its  bitter  extremity  was  unmistak 
ably  shown  by  the  uncarpeted  floor,  the  meagre 
fire  and  scanty  furniture.  It  was  a  period  of 
depression  ;  work  had  been  scarce,  and  much 
of  the  time  she  had  been  too  ill  and  feeble  to 
do  rnore  than  care  for  her  children.  Away 
back  in  August  her  resources  had  been  running 
low,  bat  she  had  daily  expected  the  long  arrears 
of  pay  which  her  husband  would  receive  as 
soon  as  the  exigencies  of  the  campaign  per 
mitted.  Instead  of  these  funds,  so  greatly 
needed,  came  the  tidings  of  a  Union  defeat, 


62  CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES. 

with  her  husband's  name  down  among  the 
missing.  Beyond  that  brief  mention,  so  horri 
ble  in  its  vagueness,  she  had  never  heard  a 
word  from  the  one  who  not  only  sustained  her 
home  but  also  her  heart.  Was  he  languishing 
in  a  Southern  prison,  or,  mortally  wounded, 
had  he  lingered  out  some  terrible  hours  on 
that  wild  battle-field, a  brief  description  of  which 
had  been  so  dwelt  upon  by  her  morbid  fancy 
that  it  had  become  like  one  of  the  scenes  in 
Dante's  "  Inferno  "?  For  along  time  she  could 
not  and  would  not  believe  that  such  an  over 
whelming  disaster  had  befallen  her  and  her 
children,  although  she  knew  that  similar  losses 
had  come  to  thousands  of  others.  Events  that 
the  world  regards  as  not  only  possible  but 
probable  are  often  so  terrible  in  their  personal 
consequences  that  we  shrink  from  even  the  . 
bare  thought  of  their  occurrence. 

If  Mrs.  Marlow  had  been  told  from  the  first 
that  her  husband  was  dead,  the  shock  resulting 
would  not  have  been  so  injurious  as  the  sus 
pense  that  robbed  her  of  rest  for  days,  weeks 
and  months.  She  haunted  the  post-office,  and 
if  a  stranger  was  seen  coming  up  the  street 


CHRISTMAS,  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES.          63 

toward  her  cottage  she  watched  feverishly  for 
his  turning  in  at  her  gate  with  the  tidings  of 
her  husband's  safety.  Night  after  night  she 
lay  awake,  hoping,  praying  that  she  might 
hear  his  step  returning  on  a  furlough  to  which 
wounds  or  sickness  had  entitled  him.  The 
natural  and  inevitable  result  was  illness  and 
nervous  prostration. 

Practical  neighbors  had  told  her  that  her 
course  was  all  wrong  ;  that  she  should  be  re 
signed  and  even  cheerful  for  her  children's 
sake  ;  that  she  needed  to  sleep  well  and  live 
well  in  order  that  she  might  have  strength  to 
provide  for  them.  She  would  make  pathetic 
attempts  to  follow  this  sound  and  thrifty  ad 
vice,  but  suddenly,  when  at  her  work  or  in  her 
troubled  sleep,  that  awful  word  "  missing" 
would  pierce  her  heart  like  an  arrow,  and  she 
would  moan  and  at  times,  in  the  depths  of  her 
anguish,  cry  out,  "  Oh,  where  is  he?  Shall  I 
ever  see  him  again  ?" 

But  the  unrelenting  demands  of  life  are 
made  as  surely  upon  the  breaking  as  upon  the 
happy  heart.  She  and  her  children  must  have 
food,  clothing  and  shelter.  Her  illness  and 


64          CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES. 

feebleness  at  last  taught  her  that  she  must  not 
yield  to  her  grief,  except  so  far  as  she  was  un 
able  to  suppress  it  ;  that,  for  the  sake  of  those 
now  seemingly  dependent  upon  her,  she  must 
rally  every  shattered  nerve  and  every  relaxed 
muscle.  With  a  heroism  far  beyond  that  of 
her  husband  and  his  comrades  in  the  field,  she 
sought  to  fight  the  wolf  from  the  door,  or  at 
least  to  keep  him  at  bay.  Although  the  strug 
gle  seemed  a  hopeless  one,  she  patiently  did 
her  best  from  day  to  day,  eking  out  her  scanty 
earnings  by  the  sale  or  pawn  of  such  of  her 
household  goods  as  she  could  best  spare.  She 
felt  that  she  would  do  anything  rather  than 
reveal  her  poverty  or  accept  chanty.  Some 
help  was  more  or  less  kindly  offered,  but  be 
yond  such  aid  as  one  neighbor  may  receive  of 
another  she  had  said  gently  but  firmly,  "  Not 
yet." 

The  Marlows  were  comparative  strangers  in 
the  city  where  they  had  resided.  Her  husband 
had  been  a  teacher  in  one  of  its  public  schools 
and  his  salary  small.  Patriotism  had  been  his 
motive  for  entering  the  army,  and,  while  it  had 
cost  him  a  mighty  struggle  to  leave  his  family, 


CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES.          65 

fee  felt  that  he  had  no  more  reason  to  hold  back 
than  thousands  of  others.  He  believed  that 
he  could  still  provide  for  those  dependent  upon 
him,  and  if  he  fell,  those  for  whom  he  died 
would  not  permit  his  widow  and  children  to 
surfer.  But  the  first  popular  enthusiasm  for 
the  war  had  largely  died  out  ;  the  city  was  full 
of  widows  and  orphans  ;  there  was  depression 
of  spirit,  stagnation  in  business,  and  a  very  gen 
eral  disposition  on  the  part  of  those  who  had 
means,  to  take  care  of  themselves,  and  provide 
for  darker  days  that  might  be  in  the  immediate 
future.  Sensitive,  retiring  Mrs.  Marlow  was 
not  the  one  to  push  her  claims  or  reveal  her 
need.  Moreover,  she  could  never  give  up  the 
hope  that  tidings  from  her  husband  might,  at 
any  time,  bring  relief  and  safety. 

But  the  crisis  had  come  at  last,  and  on  this 
dreary  December  day  she  was  face  to  face  with 
absolute  want.  The  wolf,  with  his  gaunt  eyes, 
was  crouched  beside  her  cold  hearth.  A  pit 
tance  owed  to  her  for  work  had  not  been  paid  ; 
the  little  food  left  in  the  house  had  furnished 
the  children  an  unsatisfying  breakfast  ;  she 
had  eaten  nothing.  On  the  table  beside  her 


66          CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR  TIMES. 

lay  a  note  from  the  agent  of  the  estate  of  which 
her  home  was  a  part,  bidding  her  call  that 
morning.  She  knew  why — the  rent  was  two 
months  in  arrears.  It  seemed  like  death  to 
leave  the  house  in  which  her  husband  had 
placed  her  and  wherein  she  had  spent  her  hap 
piest  days.  It  stood  well  away  from  the 
crowded  town.  The  little  yard  and  garden, 
with  their  trees,  vines  and  shrubbery,  some  of 
which  her  husband  had  planted,  were  all  dear 
from  association.  In  the  rear  there  was  a 
grove  and  open  fields,  which,  though  not 
belonging  to  the  cottage,  were  not  forbidden 
to  the  children,  and  they  formed  a  wonderland 
of  delight  in  spring,  summer  and  fall.  Must 
she  take  her  active,  restless  boy  Jamie,  the 
image  of  his  father,  into  a  crowded  tenement  ? 
Must  golden-haired  Susie,  with  her  dower  of 
beauty,  be  imprisoned  in  one  close  room,  or 
else  be  exposed  to  the  evil  of  corrupt  associa 
tion  just  beyond  the  threshold  ? 

Moreover,  her  retired  home  had  become  a 
refuge.  Here  she  could  hide  her  sorrow  and 
poverty.  Here  she  could  touch  what  he  had 
touched  and  sit,  during  the  long  winter  'evenv 


CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN   WAR   TIMES.          67 

ings,  in  his  favorite  corner  by  the  fire.  Around 
her,  within  and  without,  were  the  little  appli 
ances  for  her  comfort  which  his  hands  had 
made.  How  could  she  leave  all  this  and  live  ? 
Deep  in  her  heart  also  the  hope  would  linger 
that  he  would  come  again  and  seek  her  where 
he  had  left  her. 

"  O  God  !"  she  cried  suddenly.  "  Thou 
wouldst  not,  couldst  not,  permit  him  to  die 
without  one  farewell  word,"  and  she  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands  and  rocked  back  and 
forth,  while  hard,  dry  sobs  shook  her  slight, 
famine-pinched  form. 

The  children  stopped  their  pl.,y  and  came 
and  leaned  upon  her  lap. 

"Don't  cry,  mother,"  said  Jamie,  a  little 
boy  of  ten  ;  "I'll  soon  be  big  enough  to  work 
for  you,  and  I'll  get  rich,  and  you  shall  have 
the  biggest  house  in  town.  I'll  take  care  of 
you  if  papa  don't  comeback." 

Little  Sue  knew  not  what  to  say,  but  the 
impulse  of  her  love  was  her  best  guide.  She 
threw  her  arms  around  her  mother's  neck  with 
such  an  impetuous  and  child-like  outburst  of 
affection  that  the  poor  woman's  bitter  and 


68          CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN   WAR   TIMES. 

despairing  thoughts  were  banished  for  a  time. 
The  deepest  chord  of  her  nature,  mother  love, 
was  touched,  and  for  her  children's  sake  she 
rose  up  once  more  and  faced  the  hard  problems 
of  her  life.  Putting  on  her  bonnet  and  thin 
shawl  (she  had  parted  with  much  that  she  now 
so  sorely  needed),  she  went  out  into  the  cold 
December  wind.  The  sky  was  clouded  like 
her  hopes,  and  the  light,  even  in  the  morning 
hours,  was  dim  and  leaden-hued. 

She  first  called  on  Mr.  Jackson,  the  agent  from 
whom  she  rented  her  home,  and  besought  him 
to  give  her  a  little  more  time. 

14  I  will  beg  for  work  from  door  to  door," 
she  said.  "  Surely  in  this  Christian  city  there 
must  be  those  who  will  give  me  work,  and  that 
is  all  I  ask." 

The  sleek,  comfortable  man,  in  his  well-ap 
pointed  office,  was  touched  slightly,  and  said 
in  a  voice  that  was  not  so  gruff  as  he  at  first 
had  intended  it  should  be  : 

'  Well,  I  will  wait  a  week  or  two  longer. 
If  then  you  cannot  pay  something  on  what  is 
already  due,  my  duty  to  my  employers  will 
compel  me  to  take  the  usual  course.  You 


CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN   WAR   TIMES.          69 

have  told  me  all  along  that  your  husband  would 
surely  return,  and  I  have  hated  to  say  a  word 
to  discourage  you  ;  but  I  fear  you  will  have  to 
bring  yourself  to  face  the  truth  and  act  accord 
ingly,  as  so  many  others  have  done.  I  know 
it's  very  hard  for  you,  but  I  am  held  responsi 
ble  by  my  employer,  and  at  my  intercession 
he  has  been  lenient,  as  you  must  admit.  You 
could  get  a  room  or  two  in  town  for  half 
what  you  must  pay  where  you  are.  Good- 
morning. " 

She  went  out  again  into  the  street,  which 
the  shrouded  sky  made  sombre  in  spite  of  prep 
arations  seen  on  every  side  for  the  chief  fes 
tival  of  the  year.  The  fear  was  growing 
strong  that  like  Him,  in  whose  memory  the 
day  was  honored,  she  and  her  little  ones  might 
soon  not  know  where  to  lay  their  heads.  She 
succeeded  in  getting  the  small  sum  owed  to 
her  and  payment  also  for  some  sewing  just 
finished.  More  work  she  could  not  readily 
obtain,  for  every  one  was  busy  and  preoccu 
pied  by  the  coming  day  of  gladness. 

"  Call  again,"  some  said  kindly  or  careless 
ly,  according  to  their  nature.  "  After  the  holi- 


70          CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES. 

days  are   over  we  will   try  to  have   or  make 
some  work  for  you." 

But  I  need — I  must  have  work  now,"  she 
ventured  to  say  whenever  she  had    the  chance. 

In  response  to  this  appeal  there  were  a  few 
offers  of  charity,  small  indeed,  but  from  which 
she  drew  back  with  an  instinct  so  strong  that 
it  could  not  be  overcome.  On  every  side 
she  heard  the  same  story.  The  times  were 
very  hard  ;  requests  for  work  and  aid  had  been 
so  frequent  that  purses  and  patience  were  ex 
hausted.  Moreover,  people  had  spent  their 
Christmas  money  on  their  own  households  and 
friends,  and  were  already  beginning  to  feel 
poor. 

At  last  she  obtained  a  little  work,  and  hav 
ing  made  a  few  purchases  of  that  which  was 
absolutely  essential,  she  was  about  to  drag  her 
weary  feet  homeward  when  the  thought  occur 
red  to  her  that  the  children  would  want  to  hang 
up  their  stockings  at  night,  and  she  murmured, 
"  It  may  be  the  last  chance  I  shall  ever  have 
to  put  a  Christmas  gift  in  them.  Oh,  that  I 
were  stronger  !  Oh,  that  I  could  take  my  sor 
row  more  as  others  seem  to  take  theirs  !  But 


CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN   WAR   TIMES.          71 

I  cannot,  I  cannot.  My  burden  is  greater 
than  I  can  bear.  The  cold  of  this  awful  day 
is  chilling  my  very  heart,  and  my  grief,  as 
hope  dies,  is  crushing  my  soul.  Oh,  he  must 
be  dead,  he  must  be  dead  !  That  is  what  they 
all  think.  God  help  my  little  ones  !  Oh, 
what  will  become  of  them  if  I  sink,  as  I  fear  I 
shall  !  If  it  were  not  for  them  I  feel  as  if  I 
would  fall  and  die  here  in  the  street.  Well, 
be  our  fate  what  it  may,  they  shall  owe  to  me 
one  more  gleam  of  happiness,"  and  she  went 
into  a  confectioner's  shop  and  bought  a  few 
ornamented  cakes.  These  were  the  only  gifts 
she  could  afford,  and  they  must  be  in  the  form 
of  food. 

Before  she  reached  home  the  snow  was  whirl 
ing  in  the  frosty  air,  and  the  shadows  of  the 
brief  winter  day  deepening  fast.  With  a  smile 
far  more  pathetic  than  tears  she  greeted  the 
children,  who  were  cold,  hungry  and  frightened 
at  her  long  absence  ;  and  they,  children-like, 
saw  only  the  smile,  and  not  the  grief  it  mask 
ed.  They  saw  also  the  basket  which  she 
placed  on  the  table,  and  were  quick  to  note 
that  it  seemed  a  little  fuller  than  of  late. 


72          CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES. 

"  Jamie,"  she  said,  "  run  to  the  store 
down  the  street  for  some  coal  and  kindlings 
that  I  bought,  and  then  we  will  have  a  good 
fire  and  a  nice  supper,"  and  the  boy,  at  such  a 
prospect,  eagerly  obeyed. 

She  was  glad  to  have  him  gone,  that  she 
might  hide  her  weakness.  She  sank  into  a 
chair,  so  white  and  faint  that  even  little  Susie 
left  off  peering  into  the  basket,  and  came  to 
her  with  a  troubled  face. 

'  It's  nothing,  dearie,"  the  poor  creature 
said.  "  Mamma's  only  a  little  tired.  See," 
she  added,  tottering  to  the  table,  "  I  have 
brought  you  a  great  piece  of  gingerbread." 

The  hungry  child  grasped  it,  and  was 
oblivious  and  happy. 

By  the   time   Jamie  returned   with   his   first 
basket  of  kindling  and  coal,  the  mother  had  so     \ 
far  rallied  from  her  exhaustion  as  to  meet  him 
smilingly  again    and    help   him    replenish  the 
dying  fire. 

"  Now  you  shall  rest  and  have  your  ginger 
bread  before  going  for  your  second  load,"  she 
said  cheerily,  and  the  boy  took  what  was  am 
brosia  to  him  and  danced  around  the  room  in 


CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN   WAR   TIMES.          75 

joyous  reaction  from  the  depression  of  the  long, 
weary  day,  during  which,  lonely  and  hungry, 
he  had  wondered  why  his  mother  did  not  re 
turn. 

"  So  little  could  make  them  happy,  and  yet 
I  cannot  seem  to  obtain  even  that  little,"  she 
sighed.  "  I  fear — indeed,  I  fear — I  cannot  be 
with  them  another  Christmas  ;  therefore  they 
shall  remember  that  I  tried  to  make  them 
happy  once  more,  and  the  recollection  may 
survive  the  long,  sad  days  before  them,  and 
become  a  part  of  my  memory." 

The  room  was  now  growing  dark,  and  she 
lighted  the  lamp.  Then  she  cowered  shiver- 
ingly  over  the  reviving  fire,  feeling  as  if  she 
could  never  be  warm  again. 

The  street-lamps  were  lighted  early  on  that 
clouded,  stormy  evening,  and  they  were  a  sig 
nal  to  Mr.  Jackson,  the  agent,  to  leave  his 
office.  He  remembered  that  he  had  ordered 
a  holiday  dinner,  and  now  found  himself 
in  a  mood  to  enjoy  it.  He  had  scarcely  left 
his  door  before  a  man,  coming  up  the  street 
with  great  strides  and  head  bent  down  to 
tne  snow-laden  blast,  brushed  roughly  against 


74          CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES. 

him.  The  stranger's  cap  was  drawn  over  his 
eyes,  and  the  raised  collar  of  his  blue  army 
overcoat  nearly  concealed  his  face.  The  man 
hurriedly  begged  pardon,  and  was  hastening  on 
when  Mr.  Jackson's  exclamation  of  surprise 
cause  him  to  stop  and  look  at  the  person  he 
had  jostled. 

'  Why,  Mr.  Marlow, "  the  agent  began, 
"I'm  glad  to  see  you.  It's  a  pleasure  I  feared 
I  should  never  have  again." 

My  wife/'  the  man  almost  gasped,  "  she's 
still  in  the  house  I  rented  of  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  was  the  hasty  reply.  "  It'll 
be  all  right  now." 

'  What  do  you  mean  ?  Has  it  not  been  all 
right?" 

"Well,  you  see, "  said  Mr.  Jackson  apolo 
getically,  "  we  have  been  very  lenient  toward 
your  wife,  but  the  rent  has  not  been  paid  for 
over  two  months,  and— 

"  And  you  were  about  to  turn  her  and  her 
children  out  of  doors  in  midwinter,"  broke  in 
the  soldier  wrathfully.  "  That  is  the  way  you 
sleek,  comfortable  stay-at-home  people  care  for 
those  fighting  your  battles.  After  you  con- 


CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN   WAR   TIMES.          75 

eluded  that  I  was  dead,  and  that  the  rent  might 
not  be  forthcoming,  you  decided  to  put  my 
wife  into  the  street.  Open  your  office,  sir, 
and  you  shall  have  your  rent." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Marlow,  there's  no  cause  for 
pitching  into  me  in  this  way.  You  know  that 
I  am  but  an  agent,  and— 

"  Tell  your  rich  employer,  then,  what  I 
have  said,  and  ask  him  what  he  would  be  worth 
to-day  were  there  not  men  like  myself,  who 
are  willing  to  risk  everything  and  suffer  every 
thing  for  the  Union.  But  I've  no  time  to 
bandy  words.  Have  you  seen  my  wife  lately  ?' ' 

"  Yes,"  was  the  hesitating  reply  ;  "  she  was 
here  to-day,  and  I— 

"  How  is  she  ?     What  did  you  say  to  her  ?" 

"  Well,  she  doesn't  look  very  strong.  I  felt 
sorry  for  her  and  gave  her  more  time,  taking 
the  responsibility  myself — " 

"  How  much  time  ?" 

"  I  said  two  weeks,  but  no  doubt  I  could 
have  had  the  time  extended." 

"  I  have  my  doubts.  Will  you  and  your 
employer  please  accept  my  humble  gratitude 
that  you  had  the  grace  not  to  turn  her  out  of 


76          CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES. 

doors  during  the  holiday  season.  It  might 
have  caused  remark,  but  that  consideration 
and  some  others  that  I  might  name  are  not  to 
be  weighed  against  a  few  dollars  and  cents.  I 
shall  now  remove  the  strain  upon  your  patriot 
ism  at  once,  and  will  not  only  pay  arrears  but 
also  for  two  months  in  advance." 

"  Oh,  there's  no  need  of  that  to-day." 
'  Yes,  there  is.  My  wife  shall  feel  to-night 
that  she  has  a  home  She  evidently  has  not 
received  the  letter  I  wrote  as  soon  as  I  reached 
our  lines,  or  you  would  not  have  been  talking 
to  her  about  two  weeks  more  of  shelter." 

The  agent  reopened  his  office  and  saw  a  roll 
of  bills  extracted  from  Marlow's  pocket  that 
left  no  doubt  of  the  soldier's  ability  to  provide 
for  his  family.  He  gave  his  receipt  in  silence, 
feeling  that  words  would  not  mend  matters, 
and  then  trudged  off  to  his  dinner  with  a  flag 
ging  appetite. 

As  Marlow  strode  away  he  came  to  a  sudden 
resolution — he  would  look  upon  his  wife  and 
children  before  they  saw  him  ;  he  would  feast 
his  eyes  while  they  were  unconscious  of  the 
love  that  was  beaming  upon  them.  The  dark- 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  WAR   TIMES.          77 

ness  and  storm  favored  his  project,  and  in  brief 
time  he  saw  the  light  in  his  window.  Unlatch 
ing  the  gate  softly  and  with  his  steps  muffled 
by  the  snow  that  already  carpeted  the  frozen 
ground,  he  reached  the  window,  the  blinds  of 
which  were  but  partially  closed.  His  children 
frolicking  about  the  room  were  the  first  objects 
that  caught  his  eye,  and  he  almost  laughed 
aloud  in  his  joy.  Then,  by  turning  another 
blind  slightly,  he  saw  his  wife  shivering  over 
the  fire. 

11  Great  God  !"  he  muttered,  "  how  she  has 
suffered  !"  and  he  was  about  to  rush  in  and 
take  her  into  his  arms.  On  the  threshold  he 
restrained  himself,  paused  and  said,  "  No,  not 
yet  ;  I'll  break  the  news  of  my  return  in  my 
own  way.  The  shock  of  my  sudden  appear 
ance  might  be  too  great  for  her  ;"  and  he  went 
back  to  the  window.  The  wife's  eyes  were 
following  her  children  with  such  a  wistful  ten 
derness  that  the  boy,  catching  her  gaze,  stop 
ped  his  sport,  came  to  her  side  and  began  to 
speak.  They  were  but  a  few  feet  away,  and 
Marlovv  caught  every  word. 

"  Mamma,"  the  child  said,  "  you  didn't  eat 


78          CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN   WAR   TIMES, 

any  breakfast,  and  I  don't  believe  you  have 
eaten  anything  to-day.  You  are  always  giving 
everything  to  us.  Now  I  declare  I  won't  eat 
another  bit  unless  you  take  half  of  my  cake," 
and  he  broke  off  a  piece  and  laid  it  in  her  lap. 

"  Oh,  Jamie, "  cried  the  poor  woman,  "  you 
looked  so  like  your  father  when  you  spoke  that 
I  could  almost  see  him,"  and  she  caught  him 
in  her  arms  and  covered  him  with  kisses. 

"  I'll  soon  be  big  enough  to  take  care  of 
you.  I'm  going  to  grow  up  just  like  papa 
and  do  everything  for  you,"  the  boy  said 
proudly  as  she  released  him. 

Little  Susie  also  came  and  placed  what  was 
left  of  her  cake  in  her  mother  s  lap,  saying  : 

"  I'll   work   for   you,   too,  mamma,   and  to 
morrow  I'll   sell   the  doll  Santa  Claus   gave  me 
last  Christmas,  and  then  we'll  all  have  plent)  I 
to  eat." 

Anson  Marlovv  was  sobbing  outside  the  win 
dow  as  only  a  man  weeps,  and  his  tears  in  the 
bitter  cold  became  drops  of  ice  before  they 
reached  the  ground. 

"  My  darlings  !"  the  mother  cried.  "  O 
God,  spare  me  to  you  and  provide  some  way 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  WAR  TIMES.          79 

for  us.  Your  love  should  make  me  rich  though 
I  lack  all  else.  There,  I  won't  cry  any  more, 
and  you  shall  have  as  happy  a  Christmas  as  I 
can  give  you.  Perhaps  lit  who  knew  what  it 
was  to  be  homeless  and  shelterless  will  provide 
for  our  need  ;  so  we'll  try  to  trust  Him  and 
keep  His  birthday.  And  now,  Jamie,  go  and 
bring  the  rest  of  the  coal,  and  then  we  will  make 
the  dear  home  that  papa  gave  us  cheery  and 
warm  once  more.  If  he  were  only  with  us  we 
wouldn't  mind  hunger  or  cold,  would  we  ?  O 
my  husband  !"  she  broke  out  afresh,  "  if  you 
could  only  come  back,  even  though  crippled 
and  helpless,  I  feel  that  I  could  live  and  grow 
strong  from  simple  gladness." 

"  Don't  you  think,  mamma,"  Jamie  asked, 
"  that  God  will  let  papa  come  down  from 
heaven  and  spend  Christmas  with  us  ?  He 
might  be  here  like  the  angels,  and  we  not  see 
him." 

;*  I'm  afraid  not,"  the  sad  woman  replied, 
shaking  her  head  and  speaking  more  to  herself 
than  to  the  child.  "  I  don't  see  how  he  could 
go  back  to  heaven  and  be  happy  if  he  knew 
all.  No,  we  must  be  patient  and  try  to  do 


8o          CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN   WAR   TIMES. 

our  best,  so  that  we  can  go  to  him.  Go  now, 
Jamie,  before  it  gets  too  late.  I'll  get  supper, 
and  then  we'll  sing  a  Christmas  hymn,  and  you 
and  Susie  shall  hang  up  your  stockings,  just  as 
you  did  last  Christmas,  when  dear  papa  was 
with  us.  We'll  try  to  do  everything  he  would 
wish,  and  then  by-and-by  we  shall  see  him 
again." 

As  the  boy  started  on  his  errand  his  father 
stepped  back  out  of  the  light  of  the  window, 
then  followed  the  child  with  a  great  yearning 
in  his  heart.  He  would  make  sure  the  boy 
was  safe  at  home  again  before  he  carried  out 
his  plan.  From  a  distance  he  saw  the  little 
fellow  receive  the  coal  and  start  slowly  home 
ward  with  the  burden,  and  he  followed  to  a 
point  where  the  light  of  the  street  lamps  ceased, 
then  joined  the  child,  and  said  in  a  gruff  voice, 
"  Here,  little  man,  I'm  going  your  way.  Let 
me  carry  your  basket,"  and  he  took  it  and 
strode  on  so  fast  that  the  boy  had  to  run  to 
keep  pace  with  him.  Jamie  shuffled  along 
through  the  snow  as  well  as  he  could,  but  his 
little  legs  were  so  short  in  comparison  with 
those  of  the  kindly  stranger  that  he  found  him- 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  WAR   TIMES.          81 
\. 

self  gradually  falling  behind.  So  he  put  on  an 
extra  burst  of  speed  and  managed  to  lay  hold 
of  the  long  blue  skirt  of  the  army  overcoat. 

"  Please,  sir,  don't  go  quite  so  fast,"  he 
panted. 

The  stranger  slackened  his  pace,  and  in  a 
constrained  tone  of  voice,  asked  : 

"  How  far  are  you  going,  little  man  ?" 

"Only  to  our  house — mamma's.  She's 
Mrs.  Marlow,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  know — that  is,  I  reckon  I  do.  How 
much  farther  is  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  not  much  ;  we're  most  half-way  now. 
I  say,  you're  a  soldier,  aren't  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  boy,"  said  Marlow,  with  a  lump 
in  his  throat.  '  Why  ?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  my  papa  is  a  soldier,  too, 
and  I  thought  you  might  know  him.  We 
haven't  heard  from  him  for  a  good  while, 
and — "  choking  a  bit — "  mamma's  afraid  he  is 
hurt,  or  taken  prisoner  or  something."  He 
could  not  bring  himself  to  say  "  killed." 

Jamie  let  go  the  overcoat  to  draw  his  sleeve 
across  his  eyes,  and  the  big  man  once  more 
strode  on  faster  than  ever,  and  Jamie  began  to 


82          CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES. 

fear  lest  the  dusky  form  might  disappear  in 
the  snow  and  darkness  with  both  basket  and 
coal,  but  the  apparent  stranger  so  far  forgot 
his  part  that  he  put  down  the  basket  at  Mrs. 
Marlow's  gate,  and  then  passed  on  so  quickly 
that  the  panting  boy  had  not  time  to  thank 
him.  Indeed,  Anson  Marlow  knew  that  if  he 
lingered  but  a  moment  he  would  have  the  child 
in  his  arms. 

'Why,  Jamie,"  exclaimed  his  mother, 
"  how  could  you  get  back  so  soon  with  that 
heavy  basket  ?  It  was  too  heavy  for  you,  but 
you  will  have  to  be  mamma's  little  man  now." 

"  A  big  man  caught  up  with  me  and  carried 
it.  I  don't  care  if  he  did  have  a  gruff  voice, 
I'm  sure  he  was  a  good,  kind  man.  He  knew 
where  we  lived,  too,  for  he  put  the  basket 
down  at  our  gate  before  I  con  Id  say  a  word,  I 
was  so  out  of  breath,  and  then  he  was  out  of 
sight  in  a  minute."  Some  instinct  kept  him 
from  saying  anything  about  the  army  overcoat. 

"  It's  some  neighbor  that  lives  farther  up 
the  street,  I  suppose,  and  saw  you  getting  the 
coal  at  the  store,"  Mrs.  Marlow  said.  "  Yes, 
Jamie,  it  was  a  good,  kind  act  to  help  a  little 


CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR  TIMES.          83 

boy,  and  I  think  he'll  have  a  happier  Christ 
mas  for  doing  it." 

"  Do  you  really  think  he'll  have  a  happier 
Christmas,  mamma?" 

"Yes,  I  truly  think  so.  We  are  so  made 
that  we  cannot  do  a  kind  act  without  feeling 
the  better  for  it." 

"  Well,  I  think  he  was  a  queer  sort  of  a  man 
if  he  was  kind.  I  never  knew  any  one  to  walk 
so  fast.  I  spoke  to  him  once,  but  he  did  not 
answer.  Perhaps  the  wind  roared  so  he 
couldn't  hear  me." 

"  No  doubt  he  was  hurrying  home  to  his 
wife  and  children,"  she  said,  with  a  deep 
sigh. 

When  his  boy  disappeared  within  the  door 
of  the  cottage,  Marlow  turned  and  walked 
rapidly  toward  the  city,  first  going  to  the  gro 
cery  at  which  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  pur 
chasing  his  supplies.  The  merchant  stared  for 
a  moment,  then  stepped  forward  and  greeted 
his  customer  warmly. 

'  Well,"  he  said,  after  his  first  exclamations 
of  surprise  were  over,  "  the  snow  has  made 
you  almost  as  white  as  a  ghost,  but  I'm  glad 


84          CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES. 

you're  not  one.  We  scarce  ever  thought  to 
see  you  again." 

"  Has  my  wife  an  open  account  here  now  ?" 
was  the  brief  response. 

"  Yes,  and  it  might  have  been  much  larger. 
I've  told  her  so,  too.  She  stopped  taking 
credit  some  time  ago,  and  when  she's  had  a 
dollar  or  two  to  spare  she's  paid  it  on  the  old 
score.  She  bought  so  little  that  I  said  to  her 
once  that  she  need  not  go  elsewhere  to  buy — 
that  I'd  sell  to  her  as  cheap  as  any  one  ;  that  I 
believed  you'd  come  back  all  right,  and  if  you 
didn't  she  could  pay  me  when  she  could. 
What  do  you  think  she  did  ?  Why  she  burst 
out  crying,  and  said,  '  God  bless  you,  sir,  for 
saying  my  husband  will  come  back.  So  many 
have  discouraged  me.'  I  declare  to  you  her 
feeling  was  so  right  down  genuine  that  I  had 
to  mop  my  own  eyes.  But  she  wouldn't  take 
any  more  credit,  and  she  bought  so  little  that 
I've  been  troubled.  I'd  have  sent  her  some 
thing,  but  your  wife  somehow  ain't  one  of 
them  kind  that  you  can  give  things  to,  and— 

Marlow  interrupted  the  good-hearted,  garru 
lous  shopman  by  saying  significantly,  "  Come 


CHRISTMAS   EVE  IN   WAR   TIMES.          85 

with  me  to  your  back-office  ;"  for  the  soldier 
feared  that  some  one  might  enter  who  would 
recognize  him  and  carry  the  tidings  to  his  home 
prematurely. 

"  Mr.  Wilkins,"  he  said  rapidly,  "  I  wanted 
to  find  out  if  you,  too,  had  thriftily  shut  down 
on  a  soldier's  wife.  You  shall  not  regret  your 
kindness." 

"  Hang  it  all,"  broke  in  Wilkins  with  com 
punction,  "  I  haven't  been  very  kind.  I  ought 
to  have  gone  and  seen  your  wife  and  found  out 
how  things  were,  and  I  meant  to,  but  I've  been 
so  confoundedly  busy- — " 

"  No  matter  now,  I've  not  a  moment  to 
spare.  You  must  help  me  to  break  the  news 
of  my  return  in  my  own  way.  I  mean  they 
shall  have  such  a  Christmas  in  the  little  cottage 
as  was  never  known  in  this  town.  You  could 
send  a  load  right  over  there,  couldn't  you  ?" 

4 '  Certainly,  certainly, "  said  Wilkins,  under 
the  impulse  of  both  business  thrift  and  good 
will,  and  a  list  of  tea,  coffee,  sugar,  flour,  bread, 
cakes,  apples,  etc.,  was  dashed  off  rapidly  ;  and 
Marlow  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  er 
rand-boy,  the  two  clerks  and  the  proprietor 


86          CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  WAR   TIMES. 

himself  busily  working  to  fill  the  order  in  the 
shortest  possible  space  of  time. 

He  next  went  to  a  restaurant,  a  little  farther 
down  the  street,  where  he  had  taken  his  meals 
for  a  short  time  before  he  brought  his  family 
to  town,  and  was  greeted  with  almost  equal 
surprise  and  warmth.  Marlow  cut  short  all 
words  by  his  almost  feverish  naste  A  huge 
turkey  had  just  been  roasted  for. the  needs  of 
the  coming  holiday,  and  this  with  a  cold  ham 
and  a  pot  of  coffee  was  ordered  to  be  sent  in  a 
covered  tray  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
Then  a  toy-shop  was  visited,  and  such  a  doll 
purchased  !  for  tears  came  into  Marlow's  eyes 
whenever  he  thought  of  his  child's  offer  to  sell 
her  dolly  for  her  mother's  sake. 

After  selecting  a  sled  for  Jamie,  and  directing 
that  they  should  be  sent  at  once,  he  c^uld  re 
strain  his  impatience  no  longer,  and  almost 
tore  back  to  his  station  at  the  cottage  window. 
His  wife  was  placing  the  meagre  little  supper 
on  the  table,  and  how  poor  and  scanty  it  was  ! 

"  Is  that  the  best  the  dear  soul  can  do  on 
Christmas  eve  ?"  he  groaned.  '  Why,  there's 
scarcely  enough  for  little  Sue.  Thank  Godr 


CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES.          87 

thy  darling,  I  will  sit  down  with  you  to  a  rather 
different  supper  before  long." 

He  bowed  his  head  reverently  with  his  wife 
as  she  asked  God's  blessing,  and  wondered  at 
her  faith.  Then  he  looked  and  listened  again 
with  a  heart-hunger  which  had  been  growing 
for  months. 

"  Do  you  really  think  Santa  Claus  will  fill 
our  stockings  to-night  ?"  Sue  asked. 

"  I  think  he'll  have  something  i'oryou,"  she 
replied.  '  There  are  so  many  poor  little  boys 
and  girls  in  the  city  that  he  may  not  be  able 
to  bring  very  much  to  you." 

'  Who  is  Santa  Claus,   anyway?"   question 
ed  Jamie. 

Tears  came  into  the  wife's  eyes  as  she 
thought  of  the  one  who  had  always  remember 
ed  them  so  kindly  as  far  as  his  modest  means 
permitted. 

She  hesitated  in  her  reply,  and  before  she 
could  decide  upon  an  answer  there  was  a  knock 
at  the  door.  Jamie  ran  to  open  it,  and  started 
back  as  a  man  entered  with  cap,  eyebrows, 
beard  and  shaggy  coat  all  white  with  the  fall 
ing  snow.  He  placed  two  great  baskets  of 


88 


CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES. 


provisions  on  the  floor,  and  said  they  were  for 
Mrs.  Anson  Marlow. 

'  There  is  some  mistake,"  Mrs.  Marlow 
began,  but  the  children,  after  staring  a  mo- 
merit,  shouted,  "  Santa  Glaus  !  Santa  Glaus  !" 

The  grocer's  man  took  the  unexpected  cue 
instantly,  and  said,  "  No  mistake,  ma'am. 
They  are  from  Santa  Glaus  ;"  and  before 
another  word  could  be  spoken  he  was  gone. 
The  face  of  the  grocer's  man  was  not  very 
familiar  to  Mrs.  Marlow,  and  the  snow  had 
disguised  him  completely.  The  children  had 
no  misgivings,  and  pounced  upon  the  baskets, 
and,  with  exclamations  of  delight,  drew  out 
such  articles  as  they  could  lift. 

'I  can't  understand  it,"  said  the  mother, 
bewildered  and  almost  frightened. 

'  Why,  mamma,  it's  asplain  as  day,"  cried 
Jamie.  :<  Didn't  he  look  just  like  the  pictures 
of  Santa  Glaus— white  beard  and  white  eye 
brows  ?  Oh,  mamma,  mamma,  here  is  a  great 
paper  of  red-cheeked  apples;"  and  he  and 
Susie  tugged  at  it  until  they  dragged  it  over 
the  side  of  the  basket,  when  the  bottom  of  the 
bag  came  out,  and  the  fruit  flecked  the  floor 


CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAS   TIMES.          89 

with  red  and  gold.  Oh,  the  bliss  of  picking  up 
those  apples  ;  of  comparing  one  with  another 
— of  running  to  the  mother  and  asking  which 
was  the  biggest  and  which  the  reddest  and 
most  beautifully  streaked  ! 

"  There  must  have  been  some  mistake,"  the 
poor  woman  kept  murmuring  as  she  examined 
the  baskets  and  found  how  liberal  and  varied 
was  the  supply,  "  for  who  could  or  would  have 
been  so  kind  ?" 

"  Why,  mommie,"  said  little  Sue,  reproach 
fully,  "  Santa  Glaus  brought  'em.  Haven't  you 
always  told  us  that  Santa  Claus  liked  to  make 
us  happy  ?" 

The  long-exiled  father  felt  that  he  could  re 
strain  himself  but  a  few  moments  longer,  and 
he  was  glad  to  see  that  the  rest  of  his  pur 
chases  were  at  the  door.  With  a  look  so  in 
tent,  and  yearning  concentration  of  thought 
so  intense,  that  it  was  strange  that  they  could 
not  feel  his  presence,  he  bent  his  eyes  once 
more  upon  a  scene  that  would  imprint  itself 
upon  his  memory  forever. 

But  while  he  stood  there  another  scene  came 
before  his  mental  vision.  Oddly  enough  his 


90          CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR  TIMES. 

thought  went  back  to  that  far-off  Southern 
brookside,  where  he  had  lain  with  his  hands  in 
the  cool  water.  He  leaned  against  the  win 
dow-casing,  with  the  Northern  snow  whirling 
about  his  head,  but  he  breathed  the  balmy 
breath  of  a  Southern  forest,  the  wood-thrush 
sang  in  the  trees  overhead  ,  and  he  could— so 
it  seemed  to  him  —actually  feel  the  water-worn 
pebbles  under  his  palms  as  he  watched  the 
life-blood  ebbing  from  his  side.  Then  there 
was  a  dim  consciousness  of  rough  but  kindly 
arms  bearing  him  through  the  underbrush, 
and,  more  distinctly,  the  memory  of  weary 
weeks  of  convalescence  in  a  mountaineer's 
cabin.  All  these  scenes  of  peril,  before  he 
finally  reached  the  Union  lines,  passed  before 
him  as  he  stood  in  a  species  of  trance  beside 
the  window  of  his  home. 

The  half-grown  boys  sent  from  the  restau 
rant  and  toy-shop  could  not  be  mistaken  for 
Santa  Claus  even  by  the  credulous  fancy  of 
the  children,  and  Mrs.  Marlow  stepped  forward 
eagerly,  and  said  : 

"  I  am  sure  there  is  some  mistake.  You  are 
certainly  leaving  these  articles  at  the  wrong 


CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  WAR   TIMES.          91 

house."  The  faces  of  the  children  began  to 
grow  anxious  and  troubled  also,  for  even  their 
faith  could  not  accept  such  marvellous  good 
fortune.  Jamie  looked  at  the  sled  with  a  kind 
of  awe,  and  saw  at  a  glance  that  it  was  hand 
somer  than  any  in  the  street.  "  Mr.  Lansing, 
a  wealthy  man,  lives  a  little  farther  on," 
Mrs.  Marlow  began  to  urge,  "  and  these  things 
must  be  meant — 

"Isn't  your  name  Mrs.  Anson  Marlow?" 
asked  the  boy  from  the  restaurant. 

"Yes." 

4  Then  I  must  do  as  I've  been  told  ;"  and 
he  opened  his  tray  and  placed  the  turkey,  the 
ham  and  the  coffee  on  the  table. 

"  If  he's  right,  I'm  right,  too,"  said  he  of 
the  toy-shop.  '  Them  was  my  directions  ;" 
and  they  were  both  about  to  depart  when  the 
woman  sprang  forward  and  gasped  : 

11  Stay!" 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  trembled  violently. 

"  Who  sent  these  things?"  she  faltered. 

"  Our  bosses,  mum,"  replied  the  boy  from 
the  restaurant,  hesitatingly. 

She  sprang  toward  him,  seized  his  arm,  and 


92  CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  WAR  TIMES. 

looked  imploringly  into  his  face.  "  Who 
ordered  them  sent  ?"  she  asked,  in  a  low,  pas 
sionate  voice. 

The  young  fellow  began  to  smile,  and  stam 
mered  awkwardly,  "  I  don't  think  I'm  to  tell." 

She  released  his  arm,  and  glanced  around 
with  a  look  of  intense  expectation. 

"  Oh,  oh  !"  she  gasped,  with  quick,  short 
sobs,  "  can  it  be—  Then  she  sprang  to  the 
door,  opened  it,  and  looked  out  into  the  black, 
stormy  night.  What  seemed  a  shadow  rushed 
toward  her,  she  felt  herself  falling,  but  strong 
arms  caught  and  bore  her,  half  fainting,  to  a 
lounge  within  the  room. 

Many  have  died  from  sorrow,  but  few  from 
joy.  With  her  husband's  arms  around  her 
Mrs.  Marlow's  weakness  soon  passed.  In  re 
sponse  to  his  deep,  earnest  tones  of  soothing 
and  entreaty,  she  speedily  opened  her  eyes  and 
gave  him  a  smile  so  full  of  content  and  unut 
terable  joy  that  all  anxiety  in  her  behalf  began 
to  pass  from  his  mind. 

'  Yes,"  she  said  softly,  "  I  can  live  now.  It 
seems  as  if  a  new  and  stronger  life  were  com 
ing  back  with  every  breath." 


CHRISTMAS  EVE   IN  V/AR   TIMES.          93 

The  young  fellows  who  had  been  the  bear 
ers  of  the  gifts  were  so  touched  that  they  drew 
their  rough  sleeves  across  their  eyes  as  they 
hastened  away,  closing;  the  door  on  the  happi 
est  family  in  the  city. 


THREE  THAJ^KSaiYESTG  KISSES. 


III. 
THREE  THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 


IT  was  the  day  before  Thanksgiving.  The 
brief,  cloudy  November  afternoon  was  fast 
merging  into  early  twilight.  The  trees,  now 
gaunt  and  bare,  creaked  and  groaned  in  the 
passing  gale,  and  clashed  their  icy  branches 
together  with  sounds  sadly  unlike  the  slum 
berous  rustle  of  their  foliage  in  June.  And  that 
same  foliage  is  now  flying  before  the  wind, 
swept  hither  and  thither,  like  exiles  driven  by 
disaster  from  the  moorings  of  home  ;  at  times 
finding  a  brief  abiding-place,  and  then  carried 
forward  to  parts  unknown  by  circumstances 
beyond  control.  The  street  leading1  into  the 
village  is  almost  deserted,  and  the  few  who 
come  and  go  hasten  on  with  fluttering  gar 
ments,  head  bent  down,  and  a  shivering  sense 


90  THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

of  discomfort.  The  fields  are  bare  and  brown, 
and  the  landscape  on  the  uplands  rising  in  the 
distance  would  be  utterly  sombre  did  not  green 
fields  of  grain,  as  childlike  faith  in  wintry  age, 
relieve  the  gloomy  outlook  and  prophecy  of 
the  sunshine  and  golden  harvest  of  a  new  year 
and  life. 

But  bleak  November  found  no  admittance 
in  Mrs.  Alford's  cosey  parlor.  Though,  as  usual, 
it  was  kept  as  the  room  for  state  occasions, 
it  was  not  a  stately  room.  It  was  furnished 
with  elegance  and  good  taste  ;  but,  what  was 
better,  the  genial  home  atmosphere  from  the 
rest  of  the  house  had  invaded  it,  and  one  did 
not  feel,  on  entering  it  from  the  free-and-easy 
sitting-room,  as  if  passing  from  a  sunny  climate 
to  the  icebergs  of  the  Pole.  Therefore  I  am 
sure  my  reader  will  follow  me  gladly  out  of 
the  biting,  boisterous  wind  into  the  homelike 
apartment  ;  and,  as  we  stand  in  fancy  before 
the  glowing  grate,  we  will  make  the  acquaint 
ance  of  the  May-day  creature  who  is  its  sole 
occupant. 

Elsie  Alford,  just  turning  seventeen,  appears 
younger  than  her  years  warranted.  Some 


THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES.  99 

girls  carry  the  child  far  into  their  teens,  and 
blend  the  mirthful  innocence  of  infancy  with 
the  richer,  fuller  life  of  budding  womanhood. 
This  was  true  of  Elsie.  Hers  was  not  the 
forced  exotic  bloom  of  fashionable  life  ;  but 
she  was  like  one  of  the  native  blossoms  of  her 
New  England  home,  having  all  the  delicacy 
and  at  the  same  time  hardiness  of  the  wind- 
flower.  She  was  also  as  shy  and  easily  agitat 
ed  ;  and  yet,  like  the  flower  she  resembled, 
well  rooted  among  the  rocks  of  principle  and 
truth.  She  was  the  youngest  and  the  pet  of 
the  household,  and  yet  the  "  petting"  was  not 
of  that  kind  that  develops  selfishness  and  wil- 
fulness  ;  but,  rather,  a  genial  sunlight  of  love 
falling  upon  her  as  a  focus  from  the  entire 
family.  They  always  spoke  of  her  as  "  Little 
Sis,"  or  the  "  child."  And  a  child  it  seemed 
she  would  ever  be,  with  her  kittenish  ways, 
quick  impulses,  and  swiftly  alternating  moods. 
As  she  developed  into  womanly  proportions, 
her  grave,  business-like  father  began  to  have 
misgivings.  After  one  of  her  wild  sallies  at  the 
table,  where  she  kept  every  one  on  the  qui  vive 
by  her  unrestrained  chatter,  Mr.  Alford  said  : 


100          THREE  THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

"  Elsie,  will  you  ever  learn  to  be  a  woman  ?" 

Looking  mischievously  at  him  through  her 
curls,  she  replied  :  "  Yes  ;  I  might  if  I  became 
as  old  as  Mrs.  Methusaleh." 

They  finally  concluded  to  leave  Elsie's  cure 
to  care  and  trouble — two  certain  elements  of 
earthly  life  ;  and  yet  her  experience  of  either 
would  be  slight,  indeed,  could  their  love  have 
shielded  her. 

But  it  would  not  be  exactly  care  or  trouble 
that  would  sober  Elsie  into  a  thoughtful 
woman,  as  our  story  will  show. 

Some  of  the  November  wind  seemed  in  her 
curling  hair  upon  this  fateful  day  ;  but  her 
fresh  young  April  face  was  a  pleasant  contrast 
to  the  scene  presented  from  the  window,  to 
which  she  kept  flitting  with  increasing  fre 
quency.  It  certainly  was  not  the  dismal  and 
darkening  landscape  that  so  intensely  interested 
her.  The  light  of  a  great  and  coming  pleasure 
is  in  her  face,  and  her  manner  is  one  of  rest 
less,  eager  expectancy.  Little  wonder.  Her 
pet  brother,  the  one  next  older  than  herself,  a 
promising  young  theologue,  is  coming  home  to 
spend  Thanksgiving.  Tt  was  time  he  appeared. 


THREE   THANKSGIVING  KlSSS^   J,;io 


The  shriek  of  the  locomotive,  had  i 
the  arrival  of  the  train,  and  her  ardent  little 
spirit  could  scarcely  endure  the  moments  in 
tervening  before  she  would  almost  concentrate 
herself  into  a  rapturous  kiss  and  embrace  of 
welcome,  for  the  favorite  brother  had  been  ab 
sent  several  long  months. 

Her  mother  called  her  away  for  a  few 
moments,  for  the  good  old  lady  was  busy,  in 
deed,  knowing  well  that  merely  full  hearts 
would  not  answer  for  a  New  England  Thanks 
giving.  But  the  moment  Elsie  was  free  she 
darted  back  to  the  window,  just  in  time  to 
catch  a  glimpse,  as  she  supposed,  of  her 
brother's  well-remembered  dark  gray  overcoat, 
as  he  was  ascending  the  front  steps. 

A  tall,  grave-looking  young  man,  an  utter 
stranger  to  the  place  and  family,  had  his  hand 
upon  the  door-bell  ;  but  before  he  could  ring 
it  the  door  flew  open,  and  a  lovely  young  creat 
ure  precipitated  herself  on  his  neck,  like  a  mis 
sile  fired  from  heavenly  battlements,  and  a  kiss 
was  pressed  upon  his  lips  that  he  afterward  ad 
mitted  to  have  felt  even  to  the  "  toes  of  his 
boots." 


102          rilXEE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

But  hi$  startled  .manner  caused  her  to  lift  her 
face  from  under  his  side-whiskers  ;  and,  though 
the  dusk  was  deepening,  she  could  see  that  her 
arms  were  around  an  utter  stranger.  She  re 
coiled  from  him  with  a  bound,  and  trembling 
like  a  wind-flower,  indeed,  her  large  blue  eyes 
dilated  at  the  intruder  with  a  dismay  beyond 
words.  How  the  awkward  scene  would  have 
ended  it  were  hard  to  tell,  had  not  the  hearty 
voice  of  one  coming  up  the  path  called  out  : 

"  Hi,  there,  you  witch  !  who  is  that  you  are 
kissing,  and  then  standing  off  to  see  the 
effect?" 

There  was  no  mistake  this  time  ;  so,  impel 
led  by  love,  shame,  and  fear  of  "  that  horrid 
man,"  she  fled,  half  sobbing,  to  his  arms. 

"  No,  he  isn't  a  '  horrid  man,'  either,"  whis 
pered  her  brother,  laughing.  "  He  is  a  class 
mate  of  mine.  Why,  Stanhope,  how  are  you  ? 
I  did  not  know  that  you  and  my  sister  were  so 
well  acquainted,"  he  added,  half  banteringly 
and  half  curiously,  for  as  yet  he  did  not  fully 
understand  the  scene. 

The  hall  lamp,  shining  through  the  open 
door,  had  revealed  the  features  of  the  young 


THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES,          103 

man  (whom  we  must  now  call  Mr.  Stanhope), 
so  that  his  classmate  had  recognized  him. 
His  first  impulse  had  been  to  slip  away  in  the 
darkness,  and  so  escape  from  his  awkward  pre 
dicament  ;  but  George  Alford's  prompt  address 
prevented  this  and  brought  him  to  bay.  He 
was  painfully  embarrassed,  but  managed  to 
stammer  : 

"  I  was  taken  for  you,  I  think.  I  never 
had  the  pleasure  —  honor  of  meeting  your 
sister." 

"  Oh,  ho  !  I  see  now.  My  wild  little  sister 
kissed  before  she  looked.  Well,  that  was  your 
good  fortune.  I  could  keep  two  Thanksgiving 
days  on  the  strength  of  such  a  kiss  as  that," 
cried  the  light-hearted  student,  shaking  the 
diffident,  shrinking  Mr.  Stanhope  warmly  by 
the  hand.  '  You  will  hardly  need  a  formal 
introduction  now.  But,  bless  me,  where  is 
she  ?  Has  the  November  wind  blown  her 
away  ?" 

"  I  think  your  sist — ,  the  lady,  passed 
around  to  the  side  entrance.  I  fear  I  have 
annoyed  her  sadly." 

"  Nonsense  !     A  good  joke.     Something  to 


104          THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

tease   the  little  witch    about.     But    come  in, 
I'm  forgetting  the  sacred  rites." 

And,  before  the  bewildered  Mr.  Stanhope 
could  help  himself,  he  was  half  dragged  into 
the  lighted  hall,  and  the  door  shut  between 
him  and  escape. 

In  the  mean  time,  Elsie,  like  a  whirlwind, 
had  burst  into  the  kitchen,  where  Mrs.  Alford 
was  superintending  some  savory  dishes,  ex 
claiming  : 

"  Oh  !  mother,  George  has  come  and  has  a 
horrid  man  with  him,  who  nearly  devoured 
me." 

And,  with  this  rather  feminine  mode  of  stat 
ing  the  case,  she  darted  into  the  dusky,  fire- 
lighted  parlor,  from  whence,  unseen,  she  could 
reconnoitre  the  hall.  Mr.  Stanhope  was  just 
saying  : 

"  Please  let  me  go.  I  have  stood  between 
you  and  your  welcome  long  enough.  I  shall 
only  be  a  marplot  ;  and  besides,  as  an  utter 
stranger,  I  have  no  right  to  stay."  To  all  of 
which  Elsie  devoutly  whispered  to  herself, 
"  Amen." 

But  Mrs.  Alford  now  appeared,  and,  after  a 


THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES.          105 

warm,  motherly  greeting  to  her  son,  turned  in 
genial  courtesy  toward  his  friend,  as  she  sup 
posed. 

George  was  so  happy  that  he  wished  every 
one  else  to  be  the  same.  The  comical  episode 
attending  Mr.  Stanhope's  unexpected  appear 
ance  just  hit  his  frolicsome  mood,  and  promis 
ed  to  be  a  source  of  endless  merriment  if  he 
could  only  keep  his  classmate  over  the  coming 
holiday.  Moreover,  he  long  had  wished  to 
become  better  acquainted  with  this  young 
man,  whose  manner  at  the  seminary  had  deep 
ly  interested  him.  So  he  said  : 

' '  Mother,  this  is  Mr.  Stanhope,  a  class 
mate  of  mine.  I  wish  you  would  help  me  per 
suade  him  to  stay." 

"Why,  certainly,  I  supposed  you  expected 
to  stay  with  us,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Alford, 
heartily. 

Mr.  Stanhope  looked  ready  to  sink  through 
the  floor,  and  his  naturally  pale  face  and  even 
his  neck  were  crimson. 

"  I  do  assure  you,  madam,"  he  urged,  "  it 
is  all  a  mistake.  I  am  not  an  invited  guest.  I 
was  merely  calling  on  a  little  matter  of  busi- 


lo6          THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

ness,  when — "  and  there  he  stopped.  George 
exploded  into  a  hearty,  uncontrollable  laugh  ; 
while  Elsie,  in  the  darkness,  shook  her  little 
fist  at  the  stranger,  who  hastened  to  add  : 
14  Please  let  me  bid  you  good-evening.  I  have 
not  the  slightest  claim  on  your  hospitality." 

"Where  are  you  staying?"  asked  Mrs. 
Alford,  a  little  mystified.  "  We  would  like 
you  to  spend  at  least  part  of  the  time  with 
us." 

"  I  do  not  expect  to  be  here  very  long.  I 
have  a  room  at  the  hotel." 

"Now,  look  here,  Stanhope,"  cried  George, 
barring  all  egress  by  planting  his  back  against 
the  door,  "  do  you  take  me,  a  half-fledged 
theologue,  for  a  heathen  ?  Do  you  suppose 
that  I  could  be  such  a  churl  as  to  let  a  class^ 
mate  stay  at  our  dingy,  forlorn  little  tavern  and 
eat  hash  on  Thanksgiving  Day  ?  I  could  never 
look  you  in  the  face  at  recitation  again.  Have 
some  consideration  for  my  peace  of  mind,  and 
I  am  sure  you  will  find  our  home  quite  as 
endurable  as  anything  Mr.  Starks  can  pro 
vide." 

"  Oh  !    as   to   that,    from     even    the   slight 


THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES.         107 

glimpse  that  I  have  had,  this  seems  more  like 
a  home  than  anything  I  have  known  for  many 
years  ;  but  I  cannot  feel  it  right  that  I,  an  un 
expected  stranger— 

"Come,  come!  No  more  of  that.  You 
know  what  is  written  about  '  entertaining 
strangers'  ;  so  that  is  your  strongest  claim. 
Moreover,  that  text  works  both  ways  some 
times,  and  the  stranger  angel  finds  himself 
among  angels.  My  old  mother  here,  if  she 
does  weigh  well  on  toward  two  hundred,  is 
more  like  one  than  anything  I  have  yet  seen. 
And  Elsie,  if  not  an  angel,  is,  at  least,  part 
witch  and  part  fairy.  But  you  need  not  fear 
ghostly  entertainment  from  mother's  larder. 
As  you  are  a  Christian,  and  not  a  Pagan,  no 
more  of  this  reluctance.  Indeed,  nolens 
volens,  I  shall  not  permit  you  to  go  out  into 
this  November  storm  to-night ;"  and  Elsie,  tc 
her  dismay,  saw  him  led  up  to  the  "spare 
room"  with  a  sort  of  hospitable  violence. 

With  flaming  cheeks  and  eyes  half  full  of 
indignant  tears,  she  now  made  onslaught  on 
her  mother,  who  had  returned  to  the  kitchen, 
;vhere  she  was  making  preparations  for  a  sup- 


loS          THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

per  that  might  almost  answer  for  the  dinner 
the  next  day. 

"Mother,  mother,"  she  exclaimed,  "how 
could  you  keep  that  disagreeable  stranger  ! 
He  will  spoil  our  Thanksgiving." 

"Why,  child,  what  is  the  matter?"  said 
Mrs.  Alford,  raising  her  eyes  in  surprise  to 
her  daughter's  face,  that  looked  like  a  red 
moon  through  the  mist  of  savory  vapors  rising 
from  the  ample  cooking-stove.  '  I  don't  un 
derstand  you.  Why  should  not  your  brother's 
classmate  add  to  the  pleasure  of  our  Thanks- 


"  Well,  perhaps  if  we  had  expected  him,  if 
he  had  come  in  some  other  way,  and  we  knew 
more  about  him — 

"  Bless  you,  child,  what  a  formalist  you 
have  become.  You  stand  on  a  fine  point  of 
etiquette,  as  if  it  were  the  broad  foundation  of 
hospitality  ;  while  only  last  week  you  wanted 
a  ragged  tramp,  who  had  every  appearance  of 
being  a  thief,  to  stay  all  night.  Your  brother 
thinks  it  a  special  providence  that  his  friend 
should  have  turned  up  so  unexpectedly." 

"Oh,    dear!"    sighed    Elsie.       "If  that   is 


THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES.          109 

what  the  doctrine  of  special  providence  means, 
I  shall  need  a  new  confession  of  faith."  Then 
a  sudden  thought  occurred  to  her,  and  she 
vanished,  while  her  mother  smiled,  saying  : 

"  What  a  queer  child  she  is,  to  be  sure." 

A  moment  later  Elsie  gave  a  sharp  knock  at 
the  spare-room  door,  and  then  in  a  second 
she  was  in  the  farther  end  of  the  dark  hall. 
George  put  his  head  out. 

"Come  here,"  she  whispered.  ''Are  you 
sure  it's  you  ?"  she  added,  holding  him  off  at 
arm's  length. 

His  response  was  such  a  tempest  of  kisses 
and  embraces  that  in  her  nervous  state  she  was 
quite  panic-stricken. 

"George,"  she  gasped,  "have  mercy  on 
me." 

"I  only  wished  to  show  you  how  he  felt, 
so  you  would  have  some  sympathy  for  him." 

"  If  you  don't  stop,"  said  the  almost  des 
perate  girl,  "  I  will  shut  myself  up  and  not  ap 
pear  till  he  is  gone.  I  will  any  way,  if  you 
don't  make  me  a  solemn  promise." 

"  Leave  out  the  'solemn.' 

"  No,     I    won't.      Upon     your     word    and 


no          THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

honor,  promise  never  to  tell  what  has  happen 
ed — my  mistake,  I  mean." 

''Oh  !  Elsie,  it's  too  good  to  keep,"  laugh 
ed  George. 

"  Now,  George,  if  you  tell,"  sobbed  Elsie, 
"  you'll  spoil  my  holiday,  your  visit,  and  every 
thing." 

"  If  you  feel  that  way,  you  foolish  child,  of 
course  I  won't  tell.  Indeed,  I  suppose  I 
should  not,  for  Stanhope  seems  half  frightened 
out  of  his  wits  also." 

11  Serves  him  right  ;  though  I  doubt  wheth 
er  he  has  many  to  lose,"  said  Elsie,  spite 
fully. 

'  Well,  I  will  do  my  best  to  keep  in,"  said 
George,  soothingly,  and  stroking  her  curls. 
"  But  you  will  let  it  all  out  ;  you  see.  The 
idea  of  you  keeping  anything  with  your  April 
face  !" 

Elsie  acted  upon  the  hint,  and  went  to  her 
room  in  order  to  remove  all  traces  of  agitation 
before  the  supper-bell  should  summon  her  to 
meet  the  dreaded  stranger. 

In  the  mean  time,  Mr.  Alford  and  James, 
the  second  son,  had  come  up  from  the  village, 


THREE  THANKSGIVING  KISSES.          ill 

where  they  had  a  thriving  business.  They  greet 
ed  George's  friend  so  cordially  that  it  went 
some  way  toward  putting  the  diffident  youth 
at  his  ease.  But  he  dreaded  meeting  Elsie 
again  quite  as  much  as  she  did  him. 

"Who  is  this  Mr.  Stanhope?"  his  parents 
asked,  as  they  drew  George  aside  for  a  little 
private  talk  after  his  long  absence. 

:<  Well,  he  is  a  classmate  with  whom  I  have 
long  wished  to  get  better  acquainted.  But  he 
is  so  shy  and  retiring  that  I  have  made  little 
progress.  He  came  from  another  seminary, 
and  entered  our  class  in  this  the  middle  year. 
No  one  seems  to  know  much  about  him  ;  and, 
indeed,  he  has  shunned  all  intimacies  and  de 
votes  himself  wholly  to  his  books.  The  reci 
tation-room  is  the  one  place  where  he  appears 
well  ;  for  there  he  speaks  out,  as  if  forgetting 
himself,  or,  rather,  losing  himself  in  some  truth 
under  contemplation.  Sometimes  he  will  ask 
a  question  that  wakes  up  both  class  and  pro 
fessor  ;  but  at  other  times  it  seems  difficult  to 
pierce  the  shell  of  his  reserve  or  diffidence. 
And  yet,  from  little  things  I  have  seen,  I  know 
that  he  has  a  good,  warm  heart,  and  the  work- 


112          THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

ing  of  his  mind  in  the  recitation-room  fasci 
nates  me.  Further  than  this  I  know  little  about 
him  ;  but  have  just  learned,  from  his  explana 
tion  as  to  his  unexpected  appearance  at  our 
door,  that  he  is  very  poor,  and  purposed  to 
spend  his  holiday  vacation  as  agent  for  a  new 
magazine  that  is  offering  liberal  premiums. 
I  think  his  poverty  is  one  of  the  reasons  why 
he  has  so  shrank  from  companionship  with  the 
other  students.  He  thinks  he  ought  to  go  out 
and  continue  his  efforts  to-night." 

"This  stormy  night!"  ejaculated  kindly 
Mrs.  Alford.  "  It  would  be  barbarous." 

"  Certainly  it  would,  mother.  We  must  not 
let  him.  But  you  must  all  be  considerate,  for 
he  seems  excessively  diffident  and  sensitive  ; 
and  besides — but  no  matter." 

"  No  fear  but  that  we  will  soon  make  him 
at  home.  And  it's  a  pleasure  to  entertain 
people  who  are  not  surfeited  with  attention.  I 
don't  understand  Elsie,  however,  for  she  seems 
to  have  formed  a  violent  prejudice  against 
him.  And  from  the  nature  of  herann^unce- 
ment  of  his  presence  I  gathered  that  he  was  a 
rather  forward  young  man." 


THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES.          n^ 

There  was  a  twinkle  in  George's  eye  ;  but 
he  merely  said  : 

"  Elsie  is  full  of  moods  and  tenses  ;  but  her 
kind  little  heart  is  always  the  same,  and  that 
will  bring  her  around  all  right." 

They  were  soon  after  marshalled  to  the 
supper-room,  and  Elsie  slipped  in  among  the 
others  ;  but  was  so  stately  and  demure  and 
with  her  curls  brushed  down  so  straight  that 
you  would  scarcely  have  known  her.  Her 
father  caught  his  pet  around  the  waist,  and 
was  about  to  introduce  her,  when  George 
hastened  to  say,  with  the  solemnity  of  a  fu 
neral,  that  Elsie  and  Mr.  Stanhope  had  met 
before. 

Elsie  repented  the  promise  she  had  wrung 
from  her  brother,  for  any  amount  of  badinage 
would  be  better  than  this  depressing  formality. 
She  took  her  seat,  not  daring  to  look  at  the 
obnoxious  guest  ;  and  the  family  noticed  with 
surprise  that  they  had  never  seen  the  little 
maiden  so  quenched  and  abashed  before.  But 
George  good-naturedly  tried  to  make  the  con 
versation  general,  so  as  to  give  them  time  to 
recover  themselves. 


114          THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

Elsie  soon  ventured  to  steal  shy  looks  at 
Mr.  Stanhope,  and,  with  her  usual  quickness, 
discovered  that  he  was  more  in  terror  of  her 
than  she  of  him,  and  she  exulted  in  the  fact. 

"  I'll  punish  him  well,  if  I  get  a  chance," 
she  thought,  with  a  certain  phase  of  the  femi 
nine  sense  of  justice.  But  the  sadness  of  his 
face  quite  disarmed  her  when  her  mother,  in 
well-meant  kindness,  asked  : 

'  Where  is  your  home  located,  Mr.  Stan 
hope  ?" 

"  In  the  seminary, "  he  answered,  in  rather  a 
low  tone. 

4  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  have  no 
better  one  than  a  forlorn  cell  in  Dogma  Hall  ?" 
exclaimed  George,  earnestly. 

Mr.  Stanhope  crimsoned,  and  then  grew 
pale,  but  tried  to  say,  lightly  :  "  An  orphan 
of  my  size  and  years  is  not  a  very  moving  ob 
ject  of  sympathy  ;  but  one  might  well  find  it 
difficult  not  to  break  the  Tenth  Commandment 
while  seeing  how  you  are  surrounded." 

Elsie  was  vexed  at  her  disposition  to  relent 
toward  him  ;  she  so  hardened  her  face,  how 
ever,  that  James  rallied  her. 


THREE   THANKSGIVING   KISSES.          115 

"  Why,  Puss,  what  is  the  matter  ?  Yours  is 
the  most  unpromising  Thanksgiving  phiz  I 
have  seen  to-day.  Count  your  marcies. " 

But  Elsie  blushed  so  violently  and  Mr. 
Stanhope  looked  so  distressed  that  James 
finished  his  supper  in  puzzled  silence,  thinking, 
however  :  '  What  has  come  over  the  little 
witch  ?  For  a  wonder,  she  seems  to  have  met 
a  man  that  she  is  afraid  of  ;  but  the  joke  is,  he 
seems  even  more  afraid  of  her." 

In  the  social  parlor  some  of  the  stiffness 
"wore  off  ;  but  Elsie  and  Mr.  Stanhope  kept  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  room  and  had  very  little 
to  say  to  each  other.  Motherly  Mrs.  Alford 
drew  the  young  man  out  sufficiently,  however, 
to  become  deeply  interested  in  him. 

By  the  next  morning  time  for  thought  had  led 
him  to  feel  that  he  must  trespass  on  their  hos 
pitality  no  longer.  Moreover,  he  plainly  rec 
ognized  that  his  presence  was  an  oppression 
and  restraint  upon  Elsie,  and  he  was  very 
sorry  that  he  had  stayed  at  all.  But  when  he 
made  known  his  purpose  the  family  would  not 
listen  to  it. 

;<  I  should  feel  dreadfully  hurt  if  you  left  us 


n6          THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

now,"  said  Mrs.  Alford,  so  decidedly  that  he 
was  in  a  dilemma,  and  stole  a  timid  look 
toward  Elsie,  who  at  once  guessed  his  motive 
in  going  away.  Her  kind  heart  got  the  better 
of  her,  and  her  face  relented  in  a  sudden  reas 
suring  smile.  Then  she  turned  hastily  away. 
Only  George  saw  and  understood  the  little 
side  scene  ;  but  Mr.  Stanhope  was  induced  to 
remain.  Then  Elsie,  in  her  quickly  varying 
moods,  was  vexed  at  herself,  and  became  more 
cold  and  distant  than  ever.  "He  will  regard 
me  as  only  a  pert,  forward  miss  ;  but  I  will 
teach  him  better,"  she  thought,  and  she  as 
tonished  the  family  more  and  more  by  a  state- 
liness  utterly  unlike  herself.  Mr.  Stanhope 
sincerely  regretted  that  he  not  broken  away, 
in  spite  of  the  others  ;  but,  in  order  not  to 
seem  vacillating,  resolved  to  stay  till  the  fol 
lowing  morning,  even  though  he  departed  bur 
dened  with  the  thought  that  he  had  spoiled  the 
day  for  one  of  the  family.  Things  had  now 
gone  so  far  that  leaving  might  only  lead  to  ex 
planations  and  more  general  annoyances,  for 
George  had  intimated  that  the  little  mistake  of 
the  previous  evening  should  remain  a  secret. 


THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES.          117 

And  yet  he  sincerely  wished  she  would  relent 
toward  him,  for  she  could  not  make  her  sweet 
little  face  repellent,  and  the  kiss  she  gave  him 
still  seemed  to  tingle  in  his  very  soul,  while  her 
last  smile  was  like  a  ray  of  warmest  sunshine. 
But  her  face,  never  designed  to  be  severe,  was 
averted. 

After  having  heard  the  affairs  of  the  nation 
discussed  in  a  sound,  scriptural  manner,  they 
all  sat  down  to  a  dinner  such  as  had  never 
blessed  poor  Mr.  Stanhope's  vision  before. 
A  married  son  and  daughter  returned  after 
church  and  half  a  dozen  grandchildren  en 
livened  the  occasion.  And  there  was  need 
of  them,  for  Elsie,  usually  in  a  state  of  wild 
effervescence  upon  such  occasions,  was  now 
demure  and  comparatively  silent.  The  chil 
dren,  with  whom  she  was  accustomed  to  romp 
like  one  of  them,  were  perplexed  indeed  ; 
and  only  the  intense  excitement  of  a  Thanks 
giving  dinner  diverted  their  minds  from  Aunt 
Elsie,  so  sadly  changed.  She  was  conscious 
that  all  were  noting  her  absent  manner, 
and  this  embarrassed  and  vexed  her  more  ; 
and  yet  she  seemed  under  a  miserable  par- 


Ii8          THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

alysis,    that    she    could    neither   explain   nor 
escape. 

44  If  we  had  only  laughed  it  off  at  first,"  she 
groaned  to  herself;  "but  now  the  whole 
thing  grows  more  absurd  and  disagreeable 
every  moment." 

'  Why,  Elise,"  said  her  father,  banteringly, 
"  you  doubted  the  other  day  whether  Mrs. 
Methusaleh's  age  would  ever  sober  you  ;  and 
yet  I  think  that  good  old  lady  would  have 
looked  more  genial  on  Thanksgiving  Day. 
What  is  the  matter?" 

"  I  was  thinking  of  the  sermon,"  she  said. 

Amid  the  comic  elevation  of  eyebrows, 
George  said,  slyly  : 

"Tell  us  the  text." 

Overwhelmed  with  confusion,  she  darted  a 
reproachful  glance  toward  him,  and  mut 
tered  : 

"  I  did  not  say  anything  about  the  text." 

*'  Well,  tell  us  about  the  sermon  then," 
laughed  James. 

"No,"  said  Elsie,  sharply.  "I'll  quote, 
you  a  text.  '  Eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,'  and 
let  me  alone." 


THREE  THANKSGIVING   KISSES.         iifr 

They  saw  that,  for  some  reason,  she  could 
not  bear  teasing,  and  that  such  badinage 
troubled  Mr.  Stanhope  also.  But  George 
came  gallantly  to  the  rescue,  and  the  dinner 
party  grew  so  merry  that  Elsie  thawed  percep 
tibly  and  Stanhope  was  beguiled  into  several 
witty  speeches.  At  each  one  Elsie  opened  her 
eyes  in  a  wider  and  growing  appreciation.  At 
last,  when  they  rose  from  their  coffee,  she 
came  to  the  surprising  conclusion  : 

"Why,  he  is  not  stupid  and  bad-looking 
after  all." 

George  was  bent  on  breaking  the  ice 
between  them,  and  so  proposed  that  the 
younger  members  of  the  family  party  should 
go  up  a  swollen  stream  and  see  the  fall.  But 
Elsie  flanked  herself  with  a  sister-in-law  on  one 
>ide  and  a  niece  on  the  other,  and  Stanhope 
was  so  diffident  that  nothing  but  downright  en 
couragement  would  bring  him  to  her  side.  So 
George  was  almost  in  despair.  Elsie's  eyes 
had  been  conveying  favorable  impressions  to 
her  reluctant  mind  throughout  the  walk,  and 
she  sincerely  regretted  that  such  an  absurd 
barrier  had  grown  up  between  them  ;  but  could 


120          THREE   THANKSGIVING   KISSES. 

not  for  the  life  of  her,  especially  before  others, 
do  anything  to  break  the  awkward  spell. 

At  last  they  were  on  their  return,  and  were 
all  grouped  together  on  a  little  bluff,  watch 
ing  the  water  pour  foamingly  through  a  narrow 
gorge. 

"  Oh  !  see,"  cried  Elsie,  suddenly  pointing 
to  the  opposite  bank,  "  what  beautiful  moss 
that  is  over  there.  It  is  just  the  kind  I  have 
been  wanting.  Oh,  dear  !  there  isn't  a  bridge 
within  half  a  mile." 

Stanhope  glanced  around  a  moment,  and 
then  said,  gallantly  :  "  I  will  get  you  the  moss, 
Miss  Alford."  And  they  saw  that  in  some  in 
conceivable  way  he  intended  crossing  where 
they  stood.  The  gorge  was  much  too  wide  for 
the  most  vigorous  leap  ;  so  Elsie  exclaimed, 
eagerly  : 

41  Oh  !  please  don't  take  any  risk.  What  is 
a  little  moss  ?" 

I  say,  Stanhope,"  remonstrated  George, 
seriously,  "  it  would  be  no  laughing  matter  if 
you  should  fall  in  there." 

But  Stanhope  only  smiled,  threw  off  his  over 
coat,  and  buttoned  his  undercoat  closely 


THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES.          121 

around  him.  George  groaned  to  himself, 
"  This  will  be  worse  than  the  kissing  scrape," 
and  was  about  to  lay  a  restraining  grasp  upon 
his  friend.  But  he  slipped  away,  and  lightly 
overhanded  up  a  tall,  slender  sapling  on  the 
edge  of  the  bank,  and  the  whole  party  gathered 
round  in  breathless  expectation.  Having 
reached  its  slender,  swaying  top,  he  threw  him 
self  out  on  the  land  side,  and  it  at  once  bent 
to  the  ground  with  his  weight,  but  without  snap 
ping,  showing  that  it  was  tough  and  fibrous. 
Holding  firmly  to  the  top,  he  gave  a  strong 
spring,  which,  with  the  spring  of  the  bent 
sapling,  sent  him  well  over  the  gorge  on  the 
firm  ground  beyond. 

There  was  a  round  of  applause  from  the  little 
group  he  had  just  left,  in  which  Elsie  joined 
heartily  ;  and  her  eyes  were  glowing  with  ad 
miration,  for  when  was  not  power  and  daring 
captivating  to  a  woman  ?  Then,  in  sudden 
alarm  and  forgetfulness  of  her  former  coolness, 
she  exclaimed  : 

"  But  how  will  you  get  back  ?" 
4  This   is  my  bridge,"    he   replied,    smiling 
brightly  across  to  her  and  holding  on   to   the 


122          THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

slender  young  tree.      "  You  perceive  that  I  was 
brought  up  in  the  country." 

And  he  tied  the  sapling  down  to  a  root  with 
a  handkerchief,  and  then  proceeded  to  fill 
another  with  moss. 

As  George  saw  Elsie's  face  while  she  watched 
Stanhope  gather  the  coveted  trifle,  he  chuckled 
to  himself  : 

'  The  ice  is  broken  between  them  now." 

But  Stanhope  had  insecurely  fastened  the 
sapling  down.  The  strain  upon  the  knot  was 
too  severe,  and  suddenly  the  young  tree  flew 
up  and  stood  erect  but  quivering,  with  his 
handkerchief  fluttering  in  its  top  as  a  symbol 
of  defeat.  There  was  an  exclamation  of  dis 
may,  and  Elsie  again  asked,  with  real  anxiety 
in  her  tone  : 

"  How  will  you  get  back  now  ?" 

Stanhope  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  confess  lam  defeated,  for  there  is  no  like 
sapling  on  this  side  ;  but  I  have  the  moss, 
and  can  join  you  at  the  bridge  below,  it  noth 
ing  better  offers." 

"George,"  said   Elsie,   indignantly,    "don't 


THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES.          123 

go  away  and  leave  Mr.  Stanhope's  handker 
chief  in  that  tree." 

"  Bless  you,  child,"  cried  George,  mischiev 
ously,  and  leading  the  way  down  the  path,  "  I 
can't  climb  any  more  than  a  pumpkin.  You 
will  have  to  go  back  with  him  after  it,  or  let  it 
wave  as  a  memento  of  his  gallantry  on  your 
behalf." 

"If  I  can  only  manage  to  throw  them 
together  without  any  embarrassing  third  parties 
present  the  ridiculous  restraint  they  are  under 
will  soon  vanish,"  he  thought  ;  and  so  he 
hastened  his  steps,  and  the  rest  trooped  after 
him,  while  Stanhope  made  his  way  with  diffi 
culty  on  the  opposite  bank,  where  there  was  no 
path.  His  progress,  therefore,  was  slow  ;  and 
Elsie  saw  that  if  she  did  not  linger  he  would 
be  left  behind  Common  politeness  forbade 
this,  and  so  she  soon  found  herself  alone,  car 
rying  his  overcoat  on  one  4>ank,  and  he  keep 
ing  pace  with  her  on  the  other.  She  com 
forted  herself  at  first  with  the  thought  that, 
with  the  brawling,  deafening  stream  between 
them,  there  would  be  no  chance  for  embarrass- 


124          THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

ing  conversation.  But  soon  her  sympathies  be 
came  aroused  as  she  saw  him  toilsomely  mak 
ing  his  way  over  the  rocks  and  through  the 
tangled  thickets  ;  and,  as  she  could  not  speak 
to  him,  she  smiled  her  encouragement  so 
often  that  she  felt  it  would  be  impossible  to 
go  back  to  her  old  reserve. 

Stanhope  now  came  to  a  little  opening  in  the 
brush.  The  cleared  ground  sloped  evenly 
toward  the  stream,  and  its  current  was  divided 
by  a  large  rock.  He  hailed  the  opportunity 
here  offered  with  delight,  for  he  was  very  anx 
ious  to  speak  to  her  before  they  should  join  the 
others.  So  he  startled  Elsie  by  walking  out 
into  the  clearing,  away  from  the  stream. 

"Well!  I  declare;  that's  cool,  to  go  and 
leave  me  alone  without  a  word,"  she  thought. 

But  she  was  almost  terror-stricken  to  see  him 
turn  and  dart  toward  the  torrent  like  an  arrow. 
With  a  long,  flying  leap,  he  landed  on  the  rock 
in  the  midst  of  the  stream  ;  and  then,  without 
a  second's  hesitation, with  the  impetus  already 
acquired,  sprang  for  the  solid  ground  where 
she  stood,  struck  it,  wavered,  and  would  have 
fallen  backward  into  the  water  had  not  she, 


THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES.          125 

quick  as  thought,   stepped   forward   and  given 
him  her  hand. 

'  You  have  saved  me  from  a  ducking,  if  not 
worse,"  he  said,  giving  the  little  rescuing  hand 
a  warm  pressure. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  she,  panting,  "please 
don't  do  any  more  dreadful  things.  I  shall  be 
careful  how  I  make  any  wishes  in  your  hearing 
again." 

I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  say  that,"  he  re 
plied.  And  then  there  was  an  awkward 
silence. 

Elsie  could  think  of  nothing  better  than  to 
refer  to  the  handkerchief  they  had  left  be 
hind. 

"  Will  you  wait  for  me  till  I  run  and  get 
it  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  will  go  back  with  you,  if  you  will  permit 
me,"  she  said,  timidly. 

;'  Indeed,  I  could  not  ask  so  much  of  you  as 
that." 

"  And  yet  you  could  about  the  same  as  risk 
your  neck  to  gratify  a  whim  of  mine,"  she  said, 
more  gratefully  than  she  intended. 

"  Please  do  not  think,"  he  replied,  earnestly, 


126          THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

11  that  I  have  been  practising  cheap  heroics. 
As  I  said,  I  was  a  country  boy,  and  in  my  early 
home  thought  nothing  of  doing  such  things." 
But  even  the  brief  reference  to  that  vanished 
home  caused  him  to  sigh  deeply,  and  Elsie 
gave  him  a  wistful  look  of  sympathy. 

For  a  few  moments  they  walked  on  in 
silence.  Then  Mr.  Stanhope  turned,  and, 
with  some  hesitation,  said  : 

"  Miss  Alford,  I  did  very  wrong  to  stay  after 
— after  last  evening.  But  my  better  judgment 
was  borne  down  by  invitations  so  cordial  that 
I  hardly  knew  how  to  resist  them.  At  the 
same  time  I  now  realize  that  I  should  have 
done  so.  Indeed  I  would  go  away  at  once, 
would  not  such  a  course  only  make  matters 
worse.  And  yet,  after  receiving  so  much  kind 
ness  from  your  family,  more  than  has  blessed 
me  for  many  long  years — for  since  my  dear  ' 
mother  died  I  have  been  quite  alone  in  the 
world— I  feel  I  cannot  go  away  without  some 
assurance  or  proof  that  you  will  forgive  me  for 
being  such  a  marplot  in  your  holiday. 

Elsie's  vexation  with  herself  now  knew  no 
bounds,  and  she  stopped  in  the  path,  deter- 


THREE  THANKSGIVING  KISSES.          127 

mining  that  she  would  clear  up  matters,  cost 
what  it  might. 

"  Mr.  Stanhope,"  she  said,  "  will  you  grant 
a  request  that  will  contain  such  assurance,  or, 
rather,  will  show  you  that  I  am  heartily 
ashamed  of  my  foolish  course  ?  Will  you  not 
spend  next  Thanksgiving  with  us,  and  give 
me  a  chance  to  retrieve  myself  from  first  to 
last?" 

His  face  brightened  wonderfully,  as  he 
replied  :  "  I  will  only  be  too  glad  to  do  so,  if 
you  truly  wish  it." 

"  I  do  wish  it,"  she  said,  earnestly.  '  What 
must  you  think  of  me?"  (His  eyes  then  ex 
pressed  much  admiration  ;  but  hers  were  fixed 
on  the  ground  and  half  filled  with  tears  of  vex 
ation.)  Then,  with  a  pretty  humility  that  was 
exquisite  in  its  simplicity  and  artlessness,  she 
added  : 

"  You  have  noticed  at  home  that  they  call 
me  '  child  ';  and,  indeed,  I  am  little  more  than 
one,  and  now  see  that  I  have  behaved  like  a 
very  silly  and  naughty  one  toward  you.  I  have 
trampled  on  every  principle  of  hospitality, 
kindness,  and  good  breeding.  I  have  no  pa' 


128          THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

tience  with  myself,  and  I  wish  another  chance 
to  show  that  I  can  do  better.     I— 

Oh  i  Miss  Alford,  please  do  not  judge 
yourself  so  harshly  and  unjustly,"  interrupted 
Stanhope. 

"Oh,  dear!"  sighed  Elsie,  "  I'm  so  sorry 
for  what  happened  last  night.  We  all  might 
have  had  such  a  good  time." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Stanhope,  demurely, 
"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  also." 

''And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  are 
not?"  she  asked,  turning  suddenly  upon  him. 

"Oh!  well,  certainly,  for  your  sake,"  he 
said,  with  rising  color. 

"  But  not  for  your  own  ?"  she  asked,  with 
almost  the  naivete  of  a  child. 

He  turned  away  with  a  perplexed  laugh, 
and  replied:  "Really,  Miss  Alford,  you  are 
worse  than  the  Catechism." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  half-amused,  half- 
surprised  expression  and  the  thought  occurred 
to  her  for  the  first  time  that  it  might  not  have 
been  so  disagreeable  to  him,  after  all  ;  and 
somehow  this  thought  was  quite  a  relief  to  her, 
But  she  said  : 


THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES.          129 

"  I  thought  you  would  regard  me  as  a  hoy 
den  of  the  worst  species." 

44  Because  you  kissed  your  brother?  I  have 
never  for  a  moment  forgotten  that  it  was  only 
your  misfortune  that  I  was  not  he." 

"  I  should  have  remembered  that  it  was  not 
your  fault.  But  here  is  your  handkerchief,  fly 
ing  like  a  flag  of  truce.  So  let  bygones  be  by 
gones.  My  terms  are  that  you  come  again 
another  year,  and  give  me  a  chance  to  enter 
tain  my  brother's  friend  as  a  sister  ought." 

"  I  am  only  too  glad  to  submit  to  them,"  he 
eagerly  replied  ;  and  then  added,  so  ardently 
as  to  deepen  the  roses  already  in  her  cheeks  : 
44  If  such  are  your  punishments,  Miss  Alford, 
how  delicious  must  be  your  favors  !" 

By  common  consent,  the  subject  was  drop 
ped  ;  and,  with  tongues  released  from  awk 
ward  restraint,  they  chatted  freely  together, 
till  in  the  early  twilight  they  reached  her 
home.  The  moment  they  entered  George  ex- 
ultingly  saw  that  the  skies  were  serene. 

But  Elsie  would  never  be  the  frolicsome 
child  of  the  past  again.  As  she  surprised  the 
family  at  dinner,  so  now  at  supper  they  could 


130          THREE   THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

scarcely  believe  that  the  elegant,  graceful 
young  lady  was  the  witch  of  yesterday.  She 
had  resolved  with  all  her  soul  to  try  to  win 
some  place  in  Mr.  Stanhope's  respect  before 
he  departed,  and  never  did  a  little  maiden  suc 
ceed  better. 

In  the  evening  they  had  music,  and  Mr. 
Stanhope  pleased  them  all  with  his  fine  tenor, 
while  Elsie  delighted  him  by  her  clear  bird- 
like  voice.  So  the  hours  fled  away. 

'  You  think  better  of  the  '  horrid  man, '  little 
Sis,"  said  George,  as  he  kissed  her  good-night. 

"  I  was  the  horrid  one,"  said  Elsie,  penitent 
ly.  "I  can  never  forgive  myself  my  absurd 
conduct.  But  he  has  promised  to  come  again 
next  Thanksgiving,  and  give  me  a  chance  to  do 
better.  So  don't  you  fail  to  bring  him." 

George  gave  a  long,  low  whistle,  and  then 
said  :  "  Oh  !  ah  !  Seems  to  me  you  are  com 
ing  on,  for  an  innocent.  Are  we  to  get  mixed 
up  again  in  the  twilight  ?" 

14  Nonsense  !"  said  Elsie,  with  a  peony  face, 
and  she  slammed  her  door  upon  him. 

The  next  morning,  the  young  man  took  his 
leave,  and  Elsie's  last  words  were  : 


THREE   THANKSGIVING   KISSES.          131 

"  Mr.  Stanhope,  remember  your  prom 
ise." 

And  he  did  remember  more  than  that,  for 
this  brief  visit  had  enshrined  a  sweet,  girlish 
face  within  his  heart  of  hearts,  and  he  no 
longer  felt  lonely  and  orphaned.  He  arid 
George  became  the  closest  friends,  and  mes 
sages  from  the  New  England  home  came  to 
him  with  increasing  frequency,  which  he  return 
ed  with  prodigal  interest.  It  also  transpired 
that  he  occasionally  wrote  for  the  papers,  and 
Elsie  insisted  that  these  should  be  sent  to  her  ; 
while  he  of  course  wrote  much  better  with  the 
certainty  that  she  would  be  his  critic.  Thus, 
though  separated,  they  daily,  became  better  ac 
quainted,  and  during  the  year  George  found  it 
not  very  difficult  to  induce  his  friend  to  make 
several  visits. 

But  it  was  with  joy  that  seemed  almost  too 
rich  for  earthly  experience  that  he  found  him 
self  walking  up  the  village  street  with  George 
the  ensuing  Thanksgiving  eve.  Elsie  was  at 
the  door,  and  he  pretended  to  be  disconsolate 
that  his  reception  was  not  the  same  as  on  the 
previous  year.  Indeed  she  had  to  endure  not 


132          THREE   THANKSGIVING   KISSES. 

a  little  chaffing,  for  her  mistake  was  a  family 
joke  now. 

It  was  a  peerless  Thanksgiving  eve  and  day 
— one  of  the  sunlighted  heights  of  human  hap 
piness. 

After  dinner  they  all  again  took  a  walk  up  the 
brawling  stream,  and  Stanhope  and  Elsie 
became  separated  from  the  rest,  though  not  so 
innocently  as  on  the  former  occasion. 

"  See  !"  cried  Elsie,  pointing  to  the  well-re 
membered  sapling,  which  she  had  often  visited. 
'  There  fluttered  our  flag  of  truce  last  year." 

Stanhope  seized  her  hand,  and  said,  eagerly  : 

"  And  here  I  again  break  the  truce,  and 
renew  the  theme  we  dropped  at  this  place. 
Oh  !  Elsie,  I  have  felt  that  kiss  in  the  depths  of 
my  heart  every  hour  since  ;  and  in  that  it  led 
to  my  knowing  and  loving  you  it  has  made 
every  day  from  that  time  one  of  thanksgiving. 
If  you  could  return  my  love  as  I  have  dared 
to  hope,  it  would  be  a  happiness  beyond  words. 
If  I  could  venture  to  take  one  more  kiss,  as  a 
token  that  it  is  returned,  I  could  keep  Thanks 
giving  forever." 

Her  hand  trembled  in  his,  but  was  not  with- 


THREE   THANKSGIVING   KISSES.          133 

drawn.  Her  blushing  face  was  turned  away 
toward  the  brawling  stream  ;  but  she  saw  not 
its  foam,  she  heard  not  its  hoarse  murmurs.  A 
sweeter  music  was  in  her  ears.  She  seemed 
under  a  delicious  spell  ;  but  soon  became  con 
scious  that  a  pair  of  dark  eyes  were  looking 
down  eagerly,  anxiously  for  her  answer.  Shyly 
raising  hers,  that  now  were  like  dewy  violets, 
she  said,  with  a  little  of  her  old  witchery  : 

I  suppose  you  will    have   to    kiss    me   this 
Thanksgiving,  to  make  things  even." 
Stanhope  needed  no  broader  hint. 

I  owe  you  a  heavy  grudge,"  said  Mr. 
Alford,  in  the  evening.  "A  year  ago  you 
robbed  me  of  my  child,  for  little,  kittenish 
Elsie  became  a  thoughtful  woman  from  the 
day  you  were  here.  And  now  you  are  going 
to  take  away  the  daughter  of  my  old  age." 

'  Yes,  indeed,  husband,  i^ow  you  know 
how  my  father  felt,"  said  Mrs.  Alford,  at  the 
same  time  wiping  something  from  the  corner 
of  her  eye. 

"Bless  me,  are  you  here?"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  wheeling  round  to  his  wife.  '*  Mr. 
Stanhope,  I  have  nothing  more  to  say." 


134          THREE  THANKSGIVING  KISSES. 

"  I  declare,"  exulted  George,  "  that  '  horrid 
man  will  devour  '  Elsie  yet." 

"  Haw  !    haw  !    haw  !"  laughed    big-voiced, 
big-hearted    James.       '  The  idea   of  our  little 
witch  of  an  Elsie  being  a  minister's  wife  !" 
#          #          *          #          *          •&          # 

It  is  again  Thanksgiving  eve.  The  trees 
are  gaunt,  the  fields  bare  and  brown,  with  dead 
leaves  whirling  across  them  ;  but  a  sweeter 
than  June  sunshine  seems  filling  thecosey  parlor 
where  Elsie,  a  radiant  bride,  is  receiving  her 
husband's  first  kiss  almost  on  the  moment  that 
she  with  her  lips  so  unexpectedly  kindled  the 
sacred  fire,  three  years  before. 


TAKEN   ALIVE. 

CHAPTER  I. 

SOMETHING    BEFORE    UNKNOWN. 

pLARA   HEYWARD    was  dressed  in   deep 
w     mourning;,  and  it  was  evident  that  the  em 
blems  of  bereavement  were  not  worn  merely  in 
compliance   with   a  social    custom.     Her  face 
was  pallid  from  grief,  and  her  dark  beautiful 
eyes  were  dim  from  much   weeping.     She  sat 
in   the  little   parlor  of  a  cottage  located  in  a 
large  Californian   city,  and  listened  with   apa 
thetic   expression  as  a  young  man  pleaded  for 
the  greatest  and  most  sacred  gift  that  a  woman 
can  bestow.     Ralph  Brandt  was  a  fine  type  of 
young  vigorous  manhood  ;  and  we  might  easily 
fancy  that  his  strong,  resolute  face,  now  elo 
quent   with   deep   feeling,  was   not   one    upon 
which    a    girl    could    look    with    indifference. 
Clara's  words,  however,  revealed   the  apparent 
hopelessness  of  his  suit. 


136  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

"  It's  of  no  use,  Ralph,"  she  said  ;  "  I'm  in  no 
mood  for  such  thoughts." 

"  You  don't  believe  in  me  ;  you  don't  trust 
me,"  he  resumed  sadly.  "You  think  that  be 
cause  I  was  once  wild,  and  even  worse,  that  I'll 
not  be  true  to  my  promises  and  live  an  honest 
life.  Have  I  not  been  honest  when  I  knew 
that  being  so  might  cost  me  dear?  Have  I  not 
told  you  of  my  past  life  and  future  purposes 
when  I  might  have  concealed  almost  every 
thing  ?" 

"  It's  not  that,  Ralph.  I  do  believe  you  are 
sincere  ;  and  if  the  dreadful  thing  which  has 
broken  me  down  with  sorrow  had  not  happened, 
all  might  have  been  as  you  wrish.  I  should 
have  quite  as  much  confidence  in  a  young  man 
who,  like  you,  has  seen  evil  and  turned  reso 
lutely  away  from  it,  as  in  one  who  didn't  know 
much  about  the  world  or  himself  either.  What's 
more,  father  — 

At  the  word  "father"  her  listless  manner 
vanished,  and  she  gave  away  to  passionate  sobs. 
"  His  foul  murder  is  always  before  me,"  she 
wailed.  "  Oh,  we  were  so  happy  !  he  was  so 
kind,  and  made  me  his  companion  !  I  don't 
see  how  I  can  live  without  him.  I  can't  think 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  137 

of  love  and  marriage  when  I  remember  how  he 
died,  and  that  the  villain  who  killed  him  is  at 
large  and  unpunished.  What  right  have  I  to 
forget  this  great  wrong  and  to  try  to  be  happy  ? 
No,  no  !  the  knife  that  killed  him  pierced  my 
heart  ;  and  it's  bleeding  all  the  time.  I'm  not 
fit  to  be  any  man's  wife  ;  and  I  will  not  bring 
my  great  sorrow  into  any  man's  home." 

Brandt  sprang  up  and  paced  the  room  for  a 
few  moments,  his  brow  contracted  in  deep 
thought.  Then,  apparently  coming  to  a  de 
cision,  he  sat  down  by  his  companion  and  took 
her  cold,  unresisting  hand. 

"  My  poor  little  girl,"  he  said  kindly,  "  you 
don't  half  understand  me  yet.  I  love  you  all 
the  more  because  you  are  heart-broken  and  pale 
with  grief.  That  is  the  reason  I  have  spoken 
so  earnestly  to-night.  You  will  grieve  yourself 
to  death  if  left  alone  ;  and  what  good  would 
your  death  do  any  one  ?  It  would  spoil  my  life. 
Believe  me,  I  would  welcome  you  to  my  home 
with  all  your  sorrow,  —  all  the  more  because  of 
your  sorrow  ;  and  I'd  be  so  kind  and  patient 
that  you'd  begin  to  smile  again  some  day. 
That's  what  your  father  would  wish  if  he  could 
speak  to  you,  and  not  that  you  should  grieve 


138  TAKEN  ALIVE, 

away  your  life  for  what  can't  be  helped  now. 
But  I  have  a  plan.  It's  right  in  my  line  to  cap 
ture  such  scoundrels  as  the  man  who  murdered 
your  father  ;  and  what's  more,  I  know  the  man, 
or  rather  I  used  to  in  old  times.  I've  played 
many  a  game  of  euchre  with  him  in  which  he 
cheated  me  out  of  money  that  I'd  be  glad  to 
have  now  ;  and  I'm  satisfied  that  he  does  not 
know  of  any  change  in  me.  I  was  away  on  dis 
tant  detective  duty,  you  know,  when  your  father 
was  killed.  I  won't  ask  you  to  go  over  the  pain 
ful  circumstances ;  I  can  learn  them  at  the 
prison.  I  shall  try  to  get  permission  to  search 
out  Bute,  desperate  and  dangerous  as  he 
is—" 

"  Oh,  Ralph,  Ralph,"  cried  the  girl,  springing 
up,  her  eyes  flashing  through  her  tears,  "  if  you 
will  bring  my  father's  murderer  to  justice,  if 
you  will  prevent  him  from  destroying  other 
lives,  as  he  surely  will,  you  will  find  that  I  can 
refuse  you  nothing." 

Then  she  paused,  shook  her  head  sadly,  and 
withdrew  the  hand  she  had  given  him.  "  No," 
she  resumed,  "  I  shouldn't  ask  this  ;  I  don't 
ask  it.  As  you  say,  he  is  desperate  and  danger 
ous  ;  and  he  would  take  your  life  the  moment 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  139 

he  dreamed  of  your  purpose.     I   should   only 
have  another  cause  for  sorrow." 

Brandt  now  smiled  as  if  he  were  master  of  the 
situation.  "  Why,  Clara,"  he  exclaimed,  "don't 
you  know  that  running-  down  and  capturing 
desperadoes  is  now  part  of  my  business  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  you  can  get  plenty  of  work  that 
isn't  so  dangerous." 

"  I  should  be  a  nice  fellow  to  ask  you  to  be  my 
wife  and  yet  show  I  was  afraid  to  arrest  your 
father's  murderer.  You  needn't  ask  me  to  do 
this ;  you  are  not  going  to  be  responsible  for  my 
course  in  the  least.  I  shall  begin  operations 
this  very  night,  and  have  no  doubt  that  I  can 
get  a  chance  to  work  on  the  case.  Now  don't 
burden  your  heart  with  any  thoughts  about  my 
danger.  I  myself  owe  Bute  as  big  a  grudge  as 
I  can  have  against  any  human  being.  He 
cheated  me  and  led  me  into  deviltry  years  ago, 
and  then  I  lost  sight  of  him  until  he  was  brought 
to  the  prison  of  which  your  father  was  one  of  the 
keepers.  I've  been  absent  for  the  last  three 
months,  you  know  ;  but  I  didn't  forget  you  or 
your  father  a  day,  and  you  remember  I  wrote 
you  as  soon  as  I  heard  of  your  trouble.  I 
think  your  father  sort  of  believed  in  me  ;  he 


140 


TAKEN  ALIVE. 


never  made  me  feel  I  wasn't  fit  to  see  you  or  to 
be  with  you,  and  I'd  do  more  for  him  living  or 
dead  than  for  any  other  man." 

"  He  did  believe  in  you,  Ralph,  and  always 
spoke  well  of  you.  Oh,  you  can't  know  how 
much  I  lost  in  him  !  After  mother  died  he  did 
not  leave  me  to  the  care  of  strangers,  but  gave 
me  most  of  his  time  when  off  duty.  He  sent 
me  to  the  best  schools,  bought  me  books  to 
read,  and  took  me  out  evenings  instead  of  going 
off  by  himself  as  so  many  men  do.  He  was  so 
kind  and  so  brave  ;  oh,  oh  !  you  know  he  lost 
his  life  by  trying  to  do  his  duty  when  another 
man  would  have  given  up.  Bute  and  two 
others  broke  jail.  Father  saw  one  of  his  assist 
ants  stabbed,  and  he  was  knocked  down  himself. 
He  might  have  remained  quiet  and  escaped 
with  a  few  bruises  ;  but  he  caught  Bute's  foot, 
and  then  the  wretch  turned  and  stabbed  him. 
He  told  me  all  with  his  poor  pale  lips  before  \ 
he  died.  Oh,  oh  !  when  shall  I  forget  ?" 

"  You  can  never  forget,  dear  ;  I  don't  ask  any 
thing  contrary  to  nature.  You  were  a  good 
daughter,  and  so  I  believe  you  will  be  a  good 
wife.  But  if  I  bring  the  murderer  to  justice, 
you  will  feel  that  a  great  wrong  has  been 


TAKEN  ALIVE,  14] 

righted,  —  that  all  has  been  done  that  can  be 
done.  Then  you'll  begin  to  think  that  your 
father  wouldn't  wish  you  to  grieve  yourself  to 
death,  and  that  as  he  tried  to  make  you  happy 
while  he  was  living,  so  he  will  wish  you  to  be 
happy  now  he's  gone." 

"  It  isn't  a  question  of  happiness.  I  don't 
feel  as  if  I  could  ever  be  happy  again  ;  and  so  I 
don't  see  how  I  can  make  you  or  any  one  else 
happy." 

"  That's  my  look-out,  Clara.  I'd  be  only  too 
glad  to  take  you  as  you  are.  Come,  now,  this  is 
December.  If  I  bring  Bute  in  by  Christmas, 
what  will  you  give  me  ?" 

She  silently  and  eloquently  gave  him  her 
hand  ;  but  her  lips  quivered  so  she  could  not 
speak.  He  kissed  her  hand  as  gallantly  as  any 
olden-time  knight,  then  added  a  little  brusquely: 

"  See  here,  little  girl,  I'm  not  going  to  bind 
you  by  anything  that  looks  like  a  bargain.  I 
shall  attempt  all  I've  said ;  and  then  on  Christ 
mas,  or  whenever  I  get  back,  I'll  speak  my 
heart  to  you  again  just  as  I  have  spoken 
now." 

"  When  a  man  acts  as  you  do,  Ralph,  any  girl 
would  find  it  hard  to  keep  free.  I  shall  follow 


142  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

you  night  and  day  with  my  thoughts  and 
prayers." 

"Well,  I'm  superstitious  enough  to  believe 
that  I  shall  be  safer  and  more  successful  on 
account  of  them.  Clara,  look  me  in  the  eyes 
before  I  go." 

She  looked  up  to  his  clear  gray  eyes  as  re 
quested. 

"  I  don't  ask  you  to  forget  one  who  is  dead  ; 
but  don't  you  see  how  much  you  are  to  one  who 
is  living  ?  Don't  you  see  that  in  spite  of  all  your 
sorrow  you  can  still  give  happiness  ?  Now,  be  as 
generous  and  kind  as  you  can.  Don't  grieve 
hopelessly  while  I'm  gone.  That's  what  is 
killing  you  ;  and  the  thought  of  it  fills  me  with 
dread.  Try  to  think  that  you  still  have  some 
thing  and  some  one  to  live  for.  Perhaps  you 
can  learn  to  love  me  a  little  if  you  try,  and  then 
everything  won't  look  so  black.  If  you  find 
you  can't  love  me,  I  won't  blame  you  ;  and  if  I 
lose  you  as  my  wife,  you  won't  lose  a  true, 
honest  friend." 

For  the  first  time  the  girl  became  vaguely 
conscious  of  the  possiblity  of  an  affection,  a  tie 
superseding  all  others  ;  she  began  to  see  how  it 
was  possible  to  give  herself  to  this  man,  not 


TAKEN  ALIVE. 


143 


from  an  impulse  of  gratitude  or  because  she 
liked  him  better  than  any  one  else,  but  because 
of  a  feeling,  new,  mysterious,  which  gave  him  a 
sort  of  divine  right  in  her.  Something  in  the 
expression  of  his  eyes  had  been  more  potent 
than  his  words  ;  something  subtle,  swift  as  an 
electric  spark  had  passed  from  him  to  her, 
awakening  a  faint,  strange  tumult  in  the  heart 
she  thought  so  utterly  crushed.  A  few  mo 
ments  before,  she  could  have  promised  resolutely 
to  be  his  wife  ;  she  could  have  permitted  his 
embrace  with  unresponsive  apathy.  Now  she 
felt  a  sudden  shyness.  A  faint  color  stole  into 
her  pale  face,  and  she  longed  to  be  alone. 

"  Ralph,"  she  faltered,  uyou  are  so  generous, 
I  —  I  don't  know  what  to  say." 

"  You  needn't  say  anything  till  I  come  back. 
If  possible,  I  will  be  here  by  Christmas,  for  you 
shouldn't  be  alone  that  day  with  your  grief. 
Good-by." 

The  hand  she  gave  him  trembled,  and  her 
face  was  averted  now. 

"  You  will  try  to  love  me  a  little,  won't  you  ?' 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered. 


144  TAKEN  ALIVE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A    VISITOR    AT    THE    MINE. 

RALPH  BRANDT  was  admirably  fitted  foi 
the  task  he  had  undertaken.  With  fear 
lessness  he  united  imperturbable  coolness  and 
wearied  patience  in  pursuit  of  an  object.  Few 
knew  him  in  his  character  of  detective,  and  no 
one  would  have  singled  him  out  as  an  expert  in 
his  calling.  The  more  difficult  and  dangerous 
the  work,  the  more  careless  and  indifferent  his 
manner,  giving  the  impression  to  superficial 
observers  of  being  the  very  last  person  to  be 
intrusted  with  responsible  duty.  But  his  chief 
and  others  on  the  force  well  knew  that  beneath 
Brandt's  careless  demeanor  was  concealed  the 
relentless  pertinacity  of  a  bloodhound  on  track  * 
of  its  victim.  With  the  trait  of  dogged  pursuit 
all  resemblance  to  the  blood-thirsty  animal 
ceased,  and  even  the  worst  of  criminals  found 
him  kind-hearted  and  good-natured  after  they 
were  within  his  power.  Failure  was  an  idea 
not  to  be  entertained.  If  the  man  to  be  caught 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  145 

existed,  he  could  certainly  be  found,  was  the 
principle  on  which  our  officer  acted. 

He  readily  obtained  permission  to  attempt 
the  capture  of  the  escaped  prisoner,  Bute  ;  but 
the  murderer  had  disappeared,  leaving  no  clew. 
Brandt  learned  that  the  slums  of  large  cities  and 
several  mining  camps  had  been  searched  in  vain, 
also  that  the  trains  running  east  had  been  care 
fully  watched.  We  need  not  try  to  follow  his 
processes  of  thought,  nor  seek  to  learn  how  he 
soon  came  to  the  conclusion  that  his  man  was 
at  some  distant  mining  station  working  under 
an  assumed  name.  By  a  kind  of  instinct  his 
mind  kept  reverting  to  one  of  these  stations  with 
increasing  frequency.  It  was  not  so  remote  in 
respect  to  mere  distance  ;  but  it  was  isolated,  off 
the  lines  of  travel,  with  a  gap  of  seventy  miles 
between  it  and  what  might  be  termed  civiliz 
ation,  and  was  suspected  of  being  a  sort  of  re 
fuge  for  hard  characters  and  fugitives  from 
justice.  Bute,  when  last  seen,  was  making  for 
the  mountains  in  the  direction  of  this  mine. 
Invested  with  ample  authority  to  bring  in  the 
outlaw  dead  or  alive,  Brandt  followed  this 
vague  clew. 

One  afternoon  Mr.  Alford  the  superintendent 


i46  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

of  the  mine,  was  informed  that  a  man  wished  to 
see  him.  There  was  ushered  into  his  private 
office  an  elderly  gentleman  who  appeared  as  if 
he  might  be  a  prospecting  capitalist  or  one  of 
the  owners  of  the  mine.  The  superintendent 
was  kept  in  doubt  as  to  the  character  of  the 
visitor  for  a  few  moments  while  Brandt  sought 
by  general  remarks  and  leading  questions  to 
learn  the  disposition  of  the  man  who  must,  from 
the  necessities  of  the  case,  become  to  some  ex 
tent  his  ally  in  securing  the  ends  of  justice. 
Apparently  the  detective  was  satisfied,  for  he 
asked  suddenly, — 

"  By  the  way,  have  you  a  man  in  your  employ 
by  the  name  of  Bute  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Alford,  with  a  little 
surprise. 

"Have  you  a  man,  then,  who  answers  to  the 
following  description  ?"  He  gave  a  brief  word 
photograph  of  the  criminal. 

"  You  want  this  man  ?"  Mr.  Alford  asked  in  a* 
low  voice. 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  really,  sir,  I  would  like  to  know  your 
motive,  indeed,  I  may  add,  your  authority, 
for,-" 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  147 

"There  it  is,"  Brandt  smilingly  remarked, 
handing  the  superintendent  a  paper. 

"  Oh  certainly,  certainly,"  said  Mr.  Alford, 
after  a  moment.  "  This  is  all  right  ;  and  1  am 
bound  to  do  nothing  to  obstruct  you  in  the  per 
formance  of  your  duty."  He  now  carefully 
closed  the  door  and  added,  "  What  do  you  want 
this  man  for  ?" 

"  It's  a  case  of  murder." 

"  Phew  !  Apparently  he  is  one  of  the  best 
men  on  the  force." 

"Only  apparently  ;  I  know  him  well." 

Mr.  Alford's  brow  clouded  with  anxiety,  and 
after  a  moment  he  said,  "Mr.  —  how  shall  1 
address  you  ?" 

"You  had  better  continue  to  call  me  by  the 
name  under  which  I  was  introduced,  —  Brown." 

"Well,  Mr.  Brown,  you  have  a  very  difficult 
and  hazardous  task,  and  you  must  be  careful 
how  you  involve  me  in  your  actions.  I  shall  not 
lay  a  straw  in  your  way,  but  I  cannot  openly 
help  you.  It  is  difficult  for  me  to  get  labor  here 
at  best ;  and  it  is  understood  that  I  ask  no 
questions  and  deal  with  men  on  the  basis  simply 
of  their  relations  to  me.  As  long  as  I  act  ©n 
this  understanding,  I  can  keep  public  sentiment 


I48  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

with  me  and  enforce  some  degree  of  discipline. 
If  it  were  known  that  I  was  aiding  or  abetting 
you  in  the  enterprise  you  have  in  hand,  my  life 
would  not  be  worth  a  rush.  There  are  plenty 
in  camp  who  would  shoot  me,  just  as  they  would 
you  should  they  learn  of  your  design.  I  fear 
you  do  not  realize  what  you  are  attempting.  A 
man  like  yourself,  elderly  and  alone,  has  no 
better  chance  of  taking  such  a  fellow  as  you 
describe  Bute  to  be,  than  of  carrying  a  ton  of 
ore  on  his  back  down  the  mountain.  In  all 
sincerity,  sir,  I  must  advise  you  to  depart  quietly 
and  expeditiously,  and  give  no  one  besides  my 
self  a  hint  of  your  errand." 

"  Will  you  please  step  into  the  outer  office  and 
make  sure  that  no  one  is  within  ear-shot,"  said 
Brandt,  quietly. 

When  Mr.  Alford  returned,  the  elderly  man 
apparently  had  disappeared,  and  a  smiling 
smooth-faced  young  fellow  with  short  brown 
hair  sat  in  his  place.  His  host  stared,  the  trans 
formation  was  so  great. 

"  Mr.  Alford,"  said  the  detective,  "  I  under 
stand  my  business  and  the  risks  it  involves.  All 
I  ask  of  you  is  that  I  may  not  be  interfered  with 
so  far  as  you  are  concerned  ;  and  my  chief  ob- 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  I49 

ject  in  calling  is  to  prevent  your  being  surprised 
by  anything  you  may  see  or  hear.  About  three 
miles  or  thereabouts  from  here,  on  the  road 
running  east,  there  is  a  fellow  who  keeps  a 
tavern.  Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"  I  know  no  good  of  him.  He's  the  worst 
nuisance  I  have  to  contend  with,  for  he  keeps 
some  of  my  men  disabled  much  of  the  time." 

"Well,  I  knew  Bute  years  ago,  and  I  can 
make  him  think  I  am  now  what  I  was  then, 
only  worse  ;  and  I  will  induce  him  to  go  with 
me  to  raid  that  tavern.  If  this  plan  fails,  I 
shall  try  another,  for  I  am  either  going  to  take 
Bute  alive  or  else  get  ample  proof  that  he  is 
dead.  There  may  be  some  queer  goings-on  be 
fore  I  leave,  and  all  I  ask  is  that  you  will 
neither  interfere  nor  investigate.  You  may  be 
as  ignorant  and  non-committal  as  you  please. 
I  shall  report  progress  to  you,  however,  and 
may  need  your  testimony,  but  will  see  to  it  that 
it  is  given  by  you  as  one  who  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  affair.  Now  please  show  me  your 
quarters,  so  that  I  can  find  you  at  night  if  need 
be  ;  also  Bute's  sleeping-place  and  the  lay  of  the 
land  to  some  extent.  You'll  find  that  I  can 
take  everything  in  mighty  quick.  See,  I'm 


i5o  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

the  elderly  gentleman  again,"  and  he  resumed 
his  diguise  with  marvellous  celerity. 

Mr.  Alford  led  the  way  through  the  outer 
office  ;  and  the  two  clerks  writing  there  saw 
nothing  to  awaken  the  slightest  suspicion.  The 
superintendent's  cottage  stood  on  the  road  lead 
ing  to  the  mine  and  somewhat  apart  from  the 
other  buildings.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
highway  was  a  thicket  of  pines  which  promised 
cover  until  one  plunged  into  the  unbroken  forest 
that  covered  the  mountain-side. 

Brandt  observed  this,  and  remarked,  "  I've 
studied  the  approaches  to  your  place  a  little  as  I 
came  along ;  but  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to 
give  a  day  or  two  more  to  the  work  before 
making  my  attempt." 

"Well,"  rejoined  Mr.  Alford,  who  was  of 
rather  a  social  turn  and  felt  the  isolation  of  his 
life,  "  why  not  be  my  guest  for  a  time  ?  I'll 
take  the  risk  if  you  will  remain  incog.,  and  keep 
aloof  from  the  men." 

"  That  I  should  do  in  any  event  till  ready  to 
act.  Thank  you  for  your  kindness,  for  it  may 
simplify  my  task  very  much.  I  will  see  to  it 
that  I  do  not  compromise  you.  When  I'm 
ready  to  snare  my  bird,  you  can  dismiss  me  a 
little  ostentatiously  for  New  York." 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  151 

Brandt's  horse  was  now  ordered  to  the  stable. 
The  two  men  entered  the  cottage,  and  soon 
afterwards  visited  the  different  points  of  in 
terest,  Mr.  Alf  ord  giving  the  natural  impression 
that  he  was  showing  an  interested  stranger 
the  appliances  for  working  the  mine.  At  one 
point  he  remarked  in  a  low  tone,  "  That's  Bute's 
lodging-place.  A  half-breed,  named  Apache 
Jack,  who  speaks  little  English,  lives  with  him." 

Brandt's  seemingly  careless  and  transitory 
glance  rested  on  a  little  shanty  and  noted  that 
it  was  separated  from  others  of  its  class  by  a 
considerable  interval. 

"  Bute,  you  say,  is  on  the  day-shift." 

"  Yes,  he  won't  be  up  till  six  o'clock." 

"  I'll  manage  to  see  him  then  without  his 
knowing  it." 

"  Be  careful.  I  take  my  risk  on  the  ground  of 
your  good  faith  and  prudence." 

"  Don't  fear." 


TAKEN  ALIVE, 


CHAPTER  III. 

THWARTED. 

"HRANDT  maintained  his  disguise  admirably. 
•D  His  presence  caused  little  comment,  and 
he  was  spoken  of  as  a  visiting  stockholder  of  the 
mine.  During  his  walk  with  Mr.  Alford  he 
appeared  interested  only  in  machinery,  ores, 
etc.,  but  his  trained  eyes  made  a  topographical 
map  of  surroundings,  and  everything  centred 
about  Bute's  shanty.  In  the  evening  he  amply 
returned  his  host's  hospitality  by  comic  and 
tragic  stories  of  criminal  life.  The  next  day  he 
began  to  lay  his  plans  carefully,  and  disap 
peared  soon  after  breakfast  with  the  ostensible 
purpose  of  climbing  a  height  at  some  distance 
for  the  sake  of  the  prospect.  He  soon  doubled 
round,  noting  every  covert  approach  to  Bute's 
lodgings.  His  eye  and  ear  were  as  quick  as  an 
Indian's  ;  but  he  still  maintained,  in  case  he 
was  observed,  the  manner  of  an  elderly  stranger 
strolling  about  to  view  the  region. 

By  noon  he  felt  that  he  had  the  immediate 


TAKEN  ALIVE. 


153 


locality  by  heart.  His  afternoon  task  was  to 
explore  the  possibilities  of  a  stream  that  crossed 
the  mine  road  something-  over  a  mile  away,  and 
for  this  purpose  he  mounted  his  horse.  He 
soon  reached  the  shallow  ford,  and  saw  that  the 
water  was  backed  up  for  a  considerable  dis 
tance,  and  that  the  shallows  certainly  extended 
around  a  high,  jutting  rock  which  hid  the 
stream  from  that  point  and  beyond  from  the 
road.  The  bed  appeared  smooth,  firm  and 
sandy,  and  he  waded  his  horse  up  the  gentle 
current  until  he  was  concealed  from  the  high 
way.  A  place,  however,  was  soon  reached 
where  the  water  came  tumbling  down  over  im 
passable  rocks  ;  and  he  was  compelled  to  ascend 
the  wooded  shore.  This  he  did  on  the  side 
nearest  to  the  mine  house,  and  found  that  with 
care  he  could  lead  his  horse  to  a  point  that 
could  not  be,  he  thought,  over  half  a  mile  from 
the  superintendent's  cottage.  Here  there  was 
a  little  dell  around  which  the  pines  grew  so 
darkly  and  thickly  that  he  determined  to  make 
it  his  covert  should  he  fail  in  his  first  attempt. 
His  object  now  was  to  see  if  his  estimate  of 
proximity  to  the  mine  was  correct ;  and  leaving 
his  horse,  he  pushed  up  the  mountain-side.  At 


I54  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

last  he  reached  a  precipitous  ledge.  Skirting 
this  a  short  distance,  he  found  a  place  of  com 
paratively  easy  ascent,  and  soon  learned  with 
much  satisfaction  that  he  was  not  over  two 
hundred  yards  from  the  thicket  opposite  Mr. 
Alford's  quarters.  These  discoveries  all  favored 
possible  future  operations  ;  and  he  retraced  his 
steps,  marking  his  returning  path  by  bits  of 
white  paper,  held  in  place  by  stones  against  the 
high,  prevailing  winds.  Near  the  spot  where 
he  had  left  his  horse  he  found  a  nook  among 
the  rocks  in  which  a  fire  would  be  well  hidden. 
Having  marked  the  place  carefully  with  his 
eye  and  obtained  his  bearings,  he  led  his  horse 
back  to  the  stream  and  reached  the  unfrequented 
road  again  without  being  observed. 

His  next  task  was  to  discover  some  kind  of  a 
passage-way  from  the  mine  road  to  a  point  on 
the  main  highway,  leading  to  the  west  and  out 
of  the  mountains.  He  found  no  better  resource 
than  to  strike  directly  into  the  forest  and  travel 
by  points  of  the  compass.  Fortunately  the 
trees  were  lofty  and  comparatively  open,  and 
he  encountered  no  worse  difficulties  than  some 
steep  and  rugged  descents,  and  at  last  emerged 
on  the  post  road  at  least  a  mile  to  the  west  of 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  155 

the  tavern,  which  stood  near  its  intersection 
with  the  mine  road.  Returning,  he  again 
marked  out  a  path  with  paper  as  he  had  before. 
The  sun  was  now  low  in  the  sky  ;  and  as  he 
trotted  toward  the  mine,  he  had  but  one  more 
precaution  to  take,  and  that  was  to  find  a  place 
where  the  trees  were  sufficiently  open  to  per 
mit  him  to  ride  into  their  shade  at  night  in  case 
he  wished  to  avoid  parties  upon  the  road. 
Having  indicated  two  or  three  such  spots  by  a 
single  bit  of  paper  that  would  glimmer  in  th*. 
moonlight,  he  joined  Mr.  Alford  at  supper,  feel 
ing  that  his  preparations  were  nearly  complete 
When  they  were  alone,  he  told  his  host  that  it 
would  be  best  not  to  gratify  his  curiosity,  for 
then  he  could  honestly  say  that  he  knew 
nothing  of  any  detective's  plans  or  where 
abouts. 

"  I  cannot  help  feeling,"  said  Mr.  Alford, 
"  that  you  are  playing  with  fire  over  a  powder 
magazine.  Now  that  I  know  you  better,  I  hate 
to  think  of  the  risk  that  you  are  taking.  It 
has  troubled  me  terribly  all  day,  I  feel  as  if 
we  were  on  the  eve  of  a  tragedy.  You  had  bet 
ter  leave  quietly  in  the  morning  and  bring  a 
force  later  that  would  make  resistance  impos- 


156  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

sible,  or  else  give  it  tip  altogether.  Why  should 
you  throw  away  your  life  ?  I  tell  you  again 
that  if  the  men  get  a  hint  of  your  character  or 
purpose  they  will  hunt  you  to  death." 

"  It's  a  part  of  my  business  to  incur  such 
risks,"  replied  Brandt,  quietly.  "  Besides,  I 
have  a  motive  in  this  case  which  would  lead 
me  to  take  a  man  out  of  the  jaws  of  hell." 

"  That's  what  you  may  find  you  are  attempt 
ing  here.  Well,  we're  in  for  it  now,  I  suppose, 
since  you  are  so  determined." 

"  I  don't  think  you  will  appear  involved  in 
the  affair  at  all.  In  the  morning  you  give  me 
a  sack  of  grain  for  my  horse  and  some  provisions 
for  myself,  and  then  bid  farewell  to  Mr.  Brown 
in  the  most  open  and  natural  manner  possible. 
You  may  not  see  me  again.  It  is  possible  I 
may  have  to  borrow  a  horse  of  you  if  my 
scheme  to-night  don't  work,  It  will  be  re 
turned  or  paid  for  very  soon." 

"  Bute  has  a  pony.  He  brought  it  with  him, 
and  he  and  Apache  Jack  between  them  manage 
to  keep  it.  They  stable  it  nights  in  a  little 
shed  back  of  their  shanty." 

"  I  had  discovered  this,  and  hope  to  take  the 
man  away  on  his  pony.  I  understand  why  Bute 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  157 

keeps  the  animal.  He  knew  that  he  might 
have  to  travel  suddenly  and  fast." 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Alford  parted  with 
Brandt  as  had  been  arranged,  the  latter  start 
ing  ostensibly  for  the  nearest  railway  station. 
All  day  long  the  superintendent  was  nervous 
and  anxious  ;  but  he  saw  no  evidences  of  suspi 
cion  or  uneasiness  among  those  in  his  employ. 

Brandt  rode  at  a  sharp  canter  as  long  as  he 
was  in  sight,  and  then  approached  the  stream 
slowly  and  warily.  When  satisfied  that  he  was 
unobserved,  he  again  passed  up  its  shallow  bed 
around  the  concealing  rock,  and  sought  his 
hiding-place  on  the  mountain-side.  Aware  that 
the  coming  nights  might  require  ceaseless  ac 
tivity,  his  first  measure  was  to  secure  a  few 
hours  of  sound  sleep  ;  and  he  had  so  trained 
himself  that  he  could,  as  it  were,  store  up  rest 
against  long  and  trying  emergencies.  The 
rocks  sheltered  him  against  the  wind,  and  a  fire 
gave  all  the  comfort  his  hardy  frame  required, 
as  he  reposed  on  his  couch  of  pine-needles. 
Early  in  the  afternoon  he  fed  his  horse,  took  a 
hearty  meal  himself,  and  concealed  the  remain 
ing  store  so  that  no  wild  creatures  could  get  at 
it.  At  early  twilight  he  returned  by  way  of  the 


158  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

stream  and  hid  his  horse  well  back  in  the  woods 
near  the  mine.  To  this  he  now  went  boldly, 
and  inquired  for  Tim  Atkins,  Bute's  assumed 
name.  He  was  directed  to  the  shanty  with 
which  he  had  already  made  himself  so  familiar. 

Bute  was  found  alone,  and  was  much  sur 
prised  at  sight  of  his  old  gambling  acquaintance 
of  better  days,  for  his  better  days  were  those 
of  robbery  before  he  had  added  the  deeper  stain 
of  murder.  Brandt  soon  allayed  active  fears 
and  suspicions  by  giving  the  impression  that  in 
his  descensus  he  had  reached  the  stage  of  rob 
bery  and  had  got  on  the  scent  of  some  rich 
booty  in  the  mountains. 

"  But  how  did  you  know  I  was  here  ?"  de 
manded  Bute. 

"I  didn't  know  it,"  replied  Brandt,  adopting 
his  old  vernacular  ;  "  but  I  guessed  as  muchj 
for  I  knew  there  was  more'n  one  shady  feller 
in  this  gang,  and  I  took  my  chances  on  fmdin'  , 
you,  for  says  I  to  myself,  if  I  can  find  Bute,  I've 
found  the  right  man  to  help  me  crack  a  ranch 
when  there's  some  risk  and  big  plunder." 

He  then  disclosed  the  fact  of  hearing  that  the 
keeper  of  the  tavern  had  accumulated  a  good 
sum  of  hard  money,  and  was  looking  out  for  a 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  159 

chance  to  send  it  to  a  bank.  "We  can  save 
him  the  trouble,  yer  know,"  he  concluded  face 
tiously. 

"Well,"  said  Bute,  musingly,  "I'm  gittin' 
tired  of  this  dog's  life,  and  I  reckon  I'll  go 
snacks  with  yer  and  then  put  out  fer  parts  un 
known.  I  was  paid  t'other  day,  and  there  ain't 
much  owin'  me  here.  I  guess  it'll  be  safer  fer 
me  ter  keep  movin'  on,  too." 

"  You  may  well  say  that,  Bute.  I  heard  be 
low  that  there  was  goin'  to  be  some  investiga 
tions  inter  this  gang,  and  that  there  was  more 
'n  one  feller  here  whose  pictur  was  on  exhibi 
tion." 

"That  so?"  said  Bute,  hastily.  "Well,  I'll 
go  with  yer  ter-night,  fer  it's  time  I  was 
movin'.  I  kin  tell  yer  one  thing,  though, — 
there'll  be  no  investigations  here  unless  a  fair- 
sized  regiment  makes  it.  Every  man  keeps  his 
shooter  handy." 

"  Hanged  if  we  care  how  the  thing  turns  out. 
You  and  me '11  be  far  enough  away  from  the 
shindy.  Now  make  your  arrangements  prompt ; 
for  we  must  be  on  the  road  by  nine  o'clock,  so 
we  can  get  through  early  in  the  night  and  have 
a  good  start  with  the  swag.  My  plan  is  to  am- 


160  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

bush  the  whiskey  shop,  go  and  demand  drinks 
soon  after  everybody  is  gone,  and  then  proceed 
to  business." 

"  Can't  we  let  my  mate,  Apache  Jack,  in  with 
us?  I'll  stand  for  him." 

"  No,  no,  I  don't  know  anything  about  Apache 
Jack  ;  and  I  can  trust  you.  We  can  manage 
better  alone,  and  I'd  rather  have  one-half  than 
one- third." 

"Trust  me,  kin  you?  you — fool,"  thought 
Bute.  "  So  ye  thinks  I'll  sit  down  and  divide 
the  plunder  socially  with  you  when  I  kin  give 
yer  a  quiet  dig  in  the  ribs  and  take  it  all.  One 
more  man  now  won't  matter.  I'm  a  goin'  ter 
try  fer  enough  ter-night  ter  take  me  well  out  of 
these  parts." 

Bute's  face  was  sinister  enough  to  suggest 
any  phase  of  evil,  and  Brandt  well  knew  that 
he  was  capable  of  what  he  meditated.  It  was 
now  the  policy  of  both  parties,  however,  to  be 
very  friendly,  and  Bute  was  still  further  mel 
lowed  by  a  draught  of  liquor  from  Brandt's 
flask. 

They  had  several  games  of  cards  in  which  it 
was  managed  that  Bute's  winnings  should  be 
the  larger  ;  and  at  nine  in  the  evening  they 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  X6i 

started  on  what  was  to  Bute  another  expedition 
of  robbery  and  murder.  Mr.  Alford,  who  was 
on  the  alert,  saw  them  depart  with  a  deep 
sigh  of  relief.  The  night  was  cloudy  ;  but  the 
moon  gave  plenty  of  light  for  travelling. 
Brandt  soon  secured  his  horse,  and  then  ap 
peared  to  give  full  rein  to  his  careless,  reckless 
spirit. 

As  they  approached  the  stream,  he  remarked, 
"  I  say  Bute,  it's  too  bad  we  can't  use  the  paste 
boards  while  on  the  jog ;  but  I  can  win  a  five 
out  of  you  by  an  old  game  of  ours.  I  bet  you  I 
can  empty  my  revolver  quicker  *n  you  can." 

"  We'd  better  save  our  amernition  and  make 
no  noise." 

"  Oh,  shaw  !  I  always  have  better  luck  when 
I'm  free  and  careless  like.  It's  your  sneaking 
fellers  that  always  get  caught.  Besides,  who'll 
notice  ?  This  little  game  is  common  enough  all 
through  the  mountains,  and  everybody  knows 
that  there's  no  mischief  in  such  kind  of  firing. 
I  want  to  win  back  some  of  my  money." 

"  Well  then,  take  you  up  ;  go  ahead." 

Instantly  from  Brandt's  pistol  there  were  six 
reports  following  one  another  so  quickly  that 
they  could  scarcely  be  distinguished. 


162  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

"  Now  beat  that  if  you  can  !"  cried  Brandt, 
who  had  a  second  and  concealed  revolver  ready 
for  an  emergency. 

"The  fool!"  thought  Bute,  "to  put  himself 
at  the  marcy  of  any  man.  I  can  pluck  him  to 
night  like  a  winged  pa'tridge  ;"  but  he,  too, 
fired  almost  as  quickly  as  his  companion. 

"  You  only  used  five  ca'tridges  in  that  little 
game,  my  friend,"  said  Brandt. 

"  Nonsense  !  I  fired  so  quick  you  couldn't 
count  'em." 

"  Now  see  here,  Bute,"  resumed  Brandt,  in 
an  aggrieved  tone,  "you've  got  to  play  fair 
with  me.  I've  cut  my  eye-teeth  since  you 
used  to  fleece  me,  and  I'll  swear  you  fired  only 
five  shots.  Let's  load  and  try  again." 

"What's  the  use  of  sich  —  —  nonsense  ?  You'll 
swar  that  you  fired  the  quickest  ;  and  of  course 
I'll  swar  the  same,  and  there's  nobody  here  ter 
jedge.  What's  more,  Ralph  Brandt,  I  wants, 
you  and  every  man  ter  know  that  I  always  keeps 
a  shot  in  reserve,  and  that  I  never  misses.  So 
let's  load  and  jog  on,  and  stop  foolin'." 

"  That  scheme  has  failed,"  thought  Brandt, 
as  he  replaced  the  shells  with  cartridges. 

His  purpose  was  to  find  a  moment  when  his 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  163 

companion  was  completely  in  his  power,  and  it 
came  sooner  that  he  expected.  When  they 
drew  near  the  brook,  it  was  evident  that  Bute's 
pony  was  thirsty,  for  it  suddenly  darted  forward 
and  thrust  its  nose  into  the  water.  Therefore, 
for  an  instant,  Bute  was  in  advance  with  his 
back  toward  the  detective.  Covering  the  fellow 
with  his  revolver,  Brandt  shouted, — 

"  Bute,  throw  up  your  hands  ;  surrender,  or 
you  are  a  dead  man  !" 

Instantly  the  truth  flashed  through  the  out> 
law's  mind.  Instead  of  complying,  he  threw 
himself  forward  over  the  pony's  neck  and  urged 
the  animal  forward.  Brandt  fired,  and  Bute 
fell  with  a  splash  into  the  water.  At  that  mo 
ment  three  miners,  returning  from  the  tavern, 
came  shouting  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
stream.  The  frightened  pony,  relieved  of  its 
burden,  galloped  homeward.  Brandt  also  with 
drew  rapidly  toward  the  mine  for  some  dis 
tance,  and  then  rode  into  the  woods.  Having 
tied  his  horse  well  back  from  the  highway,  he 
reconnoitered  the  party  that  had  so  inoppor 
tunely  interfered  with  his  plans.  He  discov 
ered  that  they  were  carrying  Bute,  who,  from 
his  groans  and  oaths,  was  evidently  not  dead. 


164  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

though  he  might  be  mortally  wounded.  His 
rescuers  were  breathing  out  curses  and  threats 
of  vengeance  against  Brandt,  now  known  to  be 
an  officer  of  the  law. 

"The  job  has  become  a  little  complicated 
now,"  muttered  Brandt,  after  they  had  passed  ; 
"and  I  must  throw  them  off  the  scent.  There 
will  be  a  dozen  out  after  me  soon." 

He  remounted  his  horse,  stole  silently  down 
the  road,  crossed  the  stream,  and  then  galloped 
to  the  tavern,  and  calling  out  the  keeper,  asked 
if  there  was  any  shorter  road  out  of  the  moun 
tains  than  the  one  leading  to  the  west.  Being 
answered  in  the  negative,  he  rode  hastily  away. 
On  reaching  the  place  where  he  had  struck  this 
road  the  previous  day,  he  entered  the  woods, 
followed  the  rugged  trail  that  he  had  marked 
by  bits  of  paper,  and  slowly  approached  the 
mine  road  again  near  the  point  where  the 
stream  crossed  it.  He  then  reconnoitered  and, 
learned  that  there  was  evidently  a  large  party 
exploring  the  woods  between  the  stream  and 
the  mine. 

At  last  they  all  gathered  at  the  ford  for  con 
saltation,  and  Brandt  heard  one  say, — 

"We're    wastin'    time,    beatin'   round    here. 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  ^5 

He'd  naterly  put  fer  the  lowlands  as  soon  as  he 
found  he  was  balked  in  takin'  his  man.  I  move 
we  call  on  Whiskey  Bob,  and  see  if  a  man's 
rode  that  way  ter-night." 

A  call  on  Whiskey  Bob  was  apparently  al 
ways  acceptable  ;  and  the  party  soon  disap 
peared  down  the  road, — some  on  horses  and 
more  on  foot.  Brandt  then  quietly  crossed  the 
road  and  gained  his  retreat  on  the  mountain-side. 

"I  must  camp  here  now  till  the  fellow  dies, 
and  I  can  prove  it,  or  until  I  can  get  another 
chance,"  was  his  conclusion  as  he  rubbed  down 
and  fed  his  horse. 


i66  TAKEN  ALIVE. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

TAKEN    ALIVE. 

A  FTER  taking  some  refreshment  himself, 
**  Brandt  decided  to  go  to  the  thicket  oppo 
site  the  superintendent's  house  for  a  little  ob 
servation.  He  soon  reached  this  outlook,  and 
saw  that  something  unusual  was  occurring  in 
the  cottage.  At  last  the  door  opened,  and  Bute 
was  assisted  to  his  shanty  by  two  men.  They 
had  scarcely  disappeared  before  Brandt  darted 
across  the  road  and  knocked  for  admittance. 

"  Great  Scott !  you  here  ?"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Alford. 

"  Yes,  and  here  I'm  going  to  stay  till  I  take 
my  man,"  replied  the  detective,  with  a  laugh. 
"  Don't  be  alarmed.  I  shall  not  remain  in  your 
house,  but  in  the  neighborhood." 

"  You  are  trifling  with  your  life,  and,  I  may 
add,  with  mine." 

"Not  at  all.  Come  up  to  your  bedroom. 
First  draw  the  curtains  close,  and  we'll  com 
pare  notes.  I  won't  stay  but  a  few  moments." 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  167 

Mr.  Alford  felt  that  it  was  best  to  comply,  for 
some  one  might  come  and  find  them  talking  in 
the  hall.  When  Brandt  entered  the  apartment, 
he  threw  himself  into  a  chair  and  laughed  in 
his  low  careless  style  as  he  said,  "  Well,  I  almost 
bagged  my  game  to-night,  and  would  have 
done  so  had  not  three  of  your  men,  returning 
from  the  tavern,  interfered." 

"  There's  a  party  out  looking  for  you  now." 

"  I  know  it ;  but  I've  put  them  on  the  wrong 
trail.  What  I  want  to  learn  is,  will  Bute  live  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  your  shot  made  a  long  flesh-wound 
just  above  his  shoulders.  A  little  closer,  and  it 
would  have  cut  his  vertebrae  and  finished  him. 
He  has  lost  a  good  deal  of  blood,  and  could  not 
be  moved  for  some  days  except  at  some  risk." 

"  You  are  sure  of  that  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  he  may  have  to  incur  the  risk.  I  only 
wish  to  be  certain  that  he  will  not  take  it  on  his 
own  act  at  once.  You'll  soon  miss  him  in  any 
event." 

"The  sooner  the  better.  I  wish  your  aim 
had  been  surer." 

"  That  wasn't  my  good  luck.  Next  time  I'll 
have  to  shoot  closer  or  else  take  him  alive." 


168  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

"But  you  can't  stay  in  this  region.  They 
will  all  be  on  the  alert  now." 

"  Oh,  no.  The  impression  will  be  general  to 
morrow  that  I've  made  for  the  lowlands  as  fast 
as  my  horse  could  carry  me.  Don't  you  worry. 
Till  I  move  again,  I'm  safe  enough.  All  I  ask 
of  you  now  is  to  keep  Bute  in  his  own  shanty, 
and  not  to  let  him  have  more  than  one  man  to 
take  care  of  him  if  possible.  Good-night.  You 
may  not  see  me  again,  and  then  again  you 
may." 

"  Well,  now  that  you  are  here,"  said  the  su 
perintendent,  who  was  naturally  brave  enough, 
"spend  an  hour  or  two,  or  else  stay  till  just  be 
fore  daylight.  I  confess  I  am  becoming  in 
tensely  interested  in  your  adventure,  and  would 
take  a  hand  in  it  if  I  could  ;  but  you  know 
well  enough  that  if  I  did,  and  it  became  known, 
I  would  have  to  find  business  elsewhere  very 
suddenly, — that  is,  if  given  the  chance." 

"  I  only  wish  your  passive  co-operation.  I 
should  be  glad,  however,  if  you  would  let  me 
take  a  horse,  if  I  must." 

"Certainly,  as  long  as  you  leave  my  black 
mare." 

Brandt  related  what  had  occurred,  giving  a 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  169 

comical  aspect  to  everything,  and  then  after  re- 
connoitering  the  road  from  a  darkened  window, 
regained  his  cover  in  safety.  He  declined  to 
speak  of  his  future  plans  or  to  give  any  clew  to 
his  hiding-place,  to  which  he  now  returnee!. 

During  the  few  remaining  hours  of  darkness 
and  most  of  the  next  day,  he  slept  and  lounged 
about  his  fire.  The  next  night  was  too  bright 
and  clear  for  anything  beyond  a  reconnoissance, 
and  he  saw  evidences  of  an  alertness  which 
made  him  very  cautious.  He  did  not  seek  an 
other  interview  with  Mr.  Alford,  for  now  noth 
ing  was  to  be  gained  by  it. 

The  next  day  proved  cloudy,  and  with  night 
began  a  violent  storm  of  wind  and  rain.  Brandt 
cowered  over  his  fire  till  nine  o'clock,  and  then 
taking  a  slight  draught  from  his  flask,  chuck 
led,  "This  is  glorious  weather  for  my  work. 
Here's  to  Clara's  luck  this  time  !" 

In  little  over  an  hour  he  started  for  the  mine, 
near  which  he  concealed  his  horse.  Stealing 
about  in  the  deep  shadows,  he  soon  satisfied 
himself  that  no  one  was  on  the  watch,  and  then 
approaching  the  rear  of  Bute's  shanty  found  to 
his  joy  that  the  pony  was  in  the  shed.  A  chink 
in  the  board  siding  enabled  him  to  look  into  the 


170  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

room  which  contained  his  prey  ;  he  started  as 
he  saw  Apache  Jack,  instantly  recognizing  in 
him  another  criminal  for  whom  a  large  reward 
was  offered. 

"  Better  luck  than  I  dreamed  of,"  he  thought. 
"  I  shall  take  them  both  ;  but  I  now  shall  have 
to  borrow  a  horse  of  Alford  ;"  and  he  glided 
away,  secured  an  animal  from  the  stable,  and 
tied  it  near  his  own.  In  a  short  time  he  was 
back  at  his  post  of  observation.  It  had  now  be 
come  evident  that  no  one  even  imagined  that 
there  was  danger  while  such  a  storm  was 
raging.  The  howling  wind  would  drown  all 
ordinary  noises  ;  and  Brandt  determined  that 
the  two  men  in  the  shanty  should  be  on  their 
way  to  jail  that  night.  When  he  again  put  his 
eye  to  the  chink  in  the  wall,  Bute  was  saying, — 

"  Well,  no  one  will  start  fer  the  mountings 
while  this  storm  lasts,  but,  wound  or  no  wound, 
I  must  get  out  of  this  as  soon  as  it's  over. 
There's  no  safety  fer  me  here  now." 

"  Ef  they  comes  fer  you,  like  enough  they'll 
take  me,"  replied  Apache  Jack,  who,  now  that 
he  was  alone  with  his  confederate,  could  speak 
his  style  of  English  fast  enough.  His  character 
of  half-breed  was  a  disguise  which  his  dark 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  171 

complexion  had  suggested.  "  Ter-morrer  night, 
ef  it's  clar,  we'll  put  out  fer  the  easterd.  I 
know  of  a  shanty  in  the  woods  not  so  very  fur 
from  here  in  which  we  kin  put  up  till  yer's  able 
to  travel  furder.  Come,  now,  take  a  swig  of 
whiskey  with  me  and  then  we'll  sleep  ;  there's 
no  need  of  our  watchin'  any  longer  on  a  night 
like  this.  I'll  jest  step  out  an'  see  ef  the 
pony's  safe  ;  sich  a  storm  's  'nuff  ter  scare  him 
off  ter  the  woods." 

"  Well,  jest  lay  my  shooter  on  the  cha'r  here 
aside  me  'fore  you  go.  I  feel  safer  with  the 
little  bull-dog  in  reach." 

This  the  man  did,  then  putting  his  own  re 
volver  on  the  table,  that  it  might  not  get  wet, 
began  to  unbar  the  door.  Swift  as  a  shadow 
Brandt  glided  out  of  the  shed  and  around  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  shanty. 

An  instant  later  Bute  was  paralyzed  by  see 
ing  his  enemy  enter  the  open  door.  Before  the 
outlaw  could  realize  that  Brandt  was  not  a  fev 
erish  vision  induced  by  his  wound,  the  detective 
had  captured  both  revolvers,  and  was  standing 
behind  the  door  awaiting  Apache  Jack's  return. 

"  Hist !"  whispered  Brandt,  "  not  a  sound,  or 
you  will  both  be  dead  in  two  minutes." 


172  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

Bute's  nerves  were  so  shattered  that  he  could 
scarcely  have  spoken,  even  if  he  had  been  reck 
less  enough  to  do  so.  He  felt  himself  doomed ; 
and  when  brutal  natures  like  his  succumb,  they 
usually  break  utterly.  Therefore  he  could  do 
no  more  than  shiver  with  unspeakable  dread  as 
if  he  had  an  ague. 

Soon  Apache  Jack  came  rushing  in  out  of  the 
storm,  to  be  instantly  confronted  by  Brandt's 
revolver.  The  fellow  glanced  at  the  table,  and 
seeing  his  own  weapon  was  gone,  instinctively 
half  drew  a  long  knife. 

"  Put  that  knife  on  the  table  !"  ordered 
Brandt,  sternly.  "  Do  you  think  I'd  allow  any 
such  foolishness  ?" 

The  man  now  realized  his  powerlessness,  and 
obeyed ;  and  Brandt  secured  this  weapon  also. 

"  See  here,  Apache  Jack,  or  whatever  your 
name  is,  don't  you  run  your  head  into  a  noose. 
You  know  I'm  empowered  to  arrest  Bute,  and 
you  don't  know  anything  about  the  force  I  have 
at  hand.  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  obey  me, 
an  officer  of  the  law,  like  a  good  citizen.  If  you 
don't,  I'll  shoot  you  ;  and  that's  all  there  is 
about  it.  Will  you  obey  orders  ? " 

u  I  no  understan'." 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  173 

"  Stop  lying !  You  understand  English  as 
well  as  I  do,  and  I'll  suspect  you  if  you  try  that 
on  again.  Come,  now  !  I've  no  time  to  lose. 
It's  death  or  obedience  !" 

"You  can't  blame  a  fellow  fer  standin'  by  his 
mate,"  was  the  sullen  yet  deprecatory  reply. 

"  I  can  blame  any  man  and  arrest  or  shoot 
him  too,  who  obstructs  the  law.  You  must 
obey  me  for  the  next  half-hour  to  prove  that 
you  are  not  Bute's  accomplice." 

"  He's  only  my  mate,  and  our  rule  is  ter 
stand  by  each  other  ;  but,  as  you  say,  I  can't  help 
myself,  and  there's  no  use  of  my  goin'  ter  jail." 

"  I  should  think  not,"  added  Brandt,  appeal 
ing  to  the  fellow's  selfish  hope  of  escaping 
further  trouble  if  Bute  was  taken.  "  Now  get 
my  prisoner  out  of  bed  and  dress  him  as  soon  as 
possible." 

"  But  he  ain't  able  ter  be  moved.  The  super 
intendent  said  he  wasn't." 

"  That's  my  business,  not  yours.  Do  as  I  bid 
you." 

"Why  don't  yer  yell  for  help  ?"  said  Bute,  in 
a  hoarse  whisper. 

"  Because  he  knows  I'd  shoot  him  if  he  did," 
remarked  Brandt,  coolly. 


174 


TAKEN  ALIVE. 


"  Come,  old  man,"  said  Jack,  "  luck's  agin  yer. 
Ef  there's  any  hollerin'  to  be  done,  yer's  as 
able  ter  do  that  as  I  be." 

"  Quick,  quick  !  jerk  him  out  of  bed  and  get 
him  into  his  clothes.  I  won't  permit  one  false 
move." 

Jack  now  believed  that  his  only  means  of 
safety  was  to  be  as  expeditious  as  possible,  and 
that  if  Bute  was  taken  safely  he  would  be  left 
unmolested.  People  of  their  class  rarely  keep 
faith  with  one  another  when  it  is  wholly  against 
their  interests  to  do  so.  Therefore,  in  spite  of 
the  wounded  man's  groans,  he  was  quickly 
dressed  and  his  hands  tied  behind  him.  As  he 
opened  his  mouth  to  give  expression  to  his  pro 
tests,  he  found  himself  suddenly  gagged  by 
Brandt,  who  stood  behind  him.  Then  a  strap 
was  buckled  about  his  feet,  and  he  lay  on  the 
floor  helpless  and  incapable  of  making  a  sound. 

"  Now,  Jack,"  said  Brandt,  "  go  before  me  and  ^ 
bridle  and  saddle  the  pony  ;  then  bring  him  to 
the  door." 

Jack  obeyed. 

"  Now  put  Bute  upon  him.  I'll  hold  his  head  ; 
but  remember  I'm  covering  you  with  a  dead 
bead  all  the  time." 


TAKEN  ALIVE,  175 

"  No  need  of  that.    I'm  civil  enough  now." 

"  Well,  you  know  we're  sort  of  strangers  and 
it's  no  more  than  prudent  for  me  to  be  on  the 
safe  side  till  we  part  company.  That's  right, 
strap  his  feet  underneath.  Now  lead  the  pony 
in  such  directions  as  I  say.  Don't  try  to  make 
off  till  I'm  through  with  you,  or  you'll  be  shot 
instantly.  I  shall  keep  within  a  yard  of  you  all 
the  time." 

They  were  not  long  in  reaching  the  horse 
that  Brandt  had  borrowed,  and  Jack  said,  "I 
s'pose  I  kin  go  now." 

"  First  untie  Bute's  hands  so  he  can  guide  the 
pony." 

As  the  fellow  attempted  to  do  this,  and  his 
two  hands  were  together,  Brandt  slipped  a  pair 
of  light  steel  handcuffs  over  his  wrists,  and  the 
man  was  in  his  power.  Almost  before  the  new 
prisoner  could  recover  from  his  surprise,  he 
was  lifted  on  the  borrowed  horse,  and  his  legs 
also  tied  underneath. 

"  This  ain't  f a'r.  You  promised  ter  let  me  go 
when  you  got  Bute  off." 

"I  have'nt  got  him  off  yet.  Of  course  I 
can't  let  you  go  right  back  and  bring  a  dozen 
men  after  us.  You  must  be  reasonable." 


I76  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

The  fellow  yelled  for  help ;  but  the  wind 
swept  the  sound  away. 

"  If  you  do  that  again,  I'll  gag  you,  too,"  said 
Brandt.  "I  tell  you  both  once  more,  and  I 
won't  repeat  the  caution,  that  your  lives  depend 
on  obedience."  Then  he  mounted,  and  added, 
"  Bute,  I  'm  going  to  untie  your  hands,  and  you 
must  ride  on  ahead  of  me.  I'll  lead  Jack's  horse." 

In  a  moment  he  had  his  prisoners  in  the  road, 
and  was  leaving  the  mine  at  a  sharp  pace. 
Bute  was  so  cowed  and  dazed  with  terror  that 
he  obeyed  mechanically.  The  stream  was  no 
longer  a  shallow  brook,  but  a  raging  torrent 
which  almost  swept  them  away  as  Brandt 
urged  them  relentlessly  through  it.  The  tavern 
was  dark  and  silent  as  they  passed  quickly  by 
it.  Then  Brandt  took  the  gag  from  Bute's 
mouth,  and  he  groaned,  cursed,  and  pleaded  by 
turns.  Hour  after  hour  he  urged  them  for 
ward,  until  at  last  Bute  gave  out  and  fell  for 
ward'  on  the  pony's  neck.  Brandt  dismounted 
and  gave  the  exhausted  man  a  draught  from 

his  flask. 

"  Oh,  shoot  me  and  have  done  with  it !" 
groaned  Bute  ;  "  I  fd  rather  be  shot  than  hanged 
anyhow." 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  177 

"Couldn't  think  of  it,"  replied  the  detective, 
cheerily.  "  My  rule  is  to  take  prisoners  alive, 
so  that  they  can  have  a  fair  trial  and  be  sure 
that  they  get  justice.  I'd  take  you  the  rest  of 
the  way  in  a  bed  if  I  could,  but  if  you  can't  sit  up, 
I'll  have  to  tie  you  on.  We'll  reach  a  friend  of 
mine  by  daylight,  and  then  you  can  ride  in  a 
wagon,  so  brace  up." 

This  the  outlaw  did  for  a  time,  and  then  he 
gave  out  utterly  and  was  tied  more  securely  to 
the  pony.  Out  of  compassion,  Brandt  there 
after  travelled  more  slowly  ;  and  when  the  sun 
was  an  hour  high,  he  led  his  forlorn  captives  to 
the  house  of  a  man  whom  he  knew  could  be  de 
pended  upon  for  assistance.  After  a  rest  suffi 
cient  to  give  Bute  time  to  recover  somewhat, 
the  remainder  of  the  j  jurney  was  made  with 
out  any  incident  worth  mentioning,  and  the 
prisoners  were  securely  lodged  in  jail  on  the 
evening  of  the  24th  of  December. 


178  TAKEN  ALIVE. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WHAT    BRANDT     SAW    CHRISTMAS   EVE. 

BRANDT'S  words  and  effort  had  had  their 
natural  effect  on  the  mind  of  Clara  Hey- 
ward.  They  proved  an  increasing  diversion  of 
her  thoughts,  and  slowly  dispelled  the  morbid, 
leaden  grief  under  which  she  had  been  sinking. 
Her  new  anxiety  in  regard  to  her  lover's  fortune 
and  possible  fate  was  a  healthful  counter-irrit 
ant.  Half  consciously  she  yielded  to  the  influ 
ence  of  his  strong  hopeful  spirit,  and  almost  be 
fore  she  was  aware  of  it  she,  too,  began  to  hope. 
Chief  of  all,  his  manly  tenderness  and  unbar- 
gaining  love  stole  into  her  heart  like  a  subtle 
balm  ;  and  responsive  love,  the  most  potent  of 
remedies,  was  renewing  her  life.  She  found 
herself  counting  the  days  and  then  the  hours 
that  must  intervene  before  the  25th.  On  Christ 
mas  Eve  her  woman's  nature  triumphed,  and 
she  instinctively  added  such  little  graces  to  her 
toilet  as  her  sombre  costume  permitted.  She 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  179 

also  arranged  her  beautiful  hair  in  the  style 
which  she  knew  he  admired.  He  might  come  ; 
and  she  determined  that  his  first  glance  should 
reveal  that  he  was  not  serving  one  who  was 
coldly  apathetic  to  his  brave  endeavor  and 
loyalty. 

Indeed,  even  she  herself  wondered  at  the 
changes  that  had  taken  place  during  the  brief 
time  which  had  elapsed  since  their  parting. 
There  was  a  new  light  in  her  eyes  ;  and  a  deli 
cate  bloom  tinged  her  cheeks. 

"Oh,"  she  murmured,  "it's  all  so  different 
now  that  I  feel  that  I  can  live  for  him  and  make 
him  happy." 

She  was  sure  that  she  could  welcome  him  in 
a  way  that  would  assure  him  of  the  fulfilment 
of  all  his  hopes  ;  but  when  he  did  come  with 
his  eager,  questioning  eyes,  she  suddenly  found 
herself  under  a  strange  restraint,  tongue-tied 
and  embarrassed.  She  longed  to  put  her  arms 
about  his  neck  and  tell  him  all, — the  new  life, 
the  new  hope  which  his  look  of  deep  affection 
had  kindled  ;  and  in  effort  for  self-control,  she 
seemed  to  him  almost  cold.  He  therefore  be 
came  perplexed  and  uncertain  of  his  ground, 
and  took  refuge  in  the  details  of  his  expedition, 


i8o  TAKEN  ALIVE. 

meanwhile  mentally  assuring  himself  that  he 
must  keep  his  word  and  put  no  constraint  on 
the  girl  contrary  to  the  dictates  of  her  heart. 

As  his  mind  grew  clearer,  his  keen  obser 
vation  begar-  to  reveal  hopeful  indications. 
She  was  listening  intently  with  approval,  and 
something  more  in  her  expression,  he  dared  to 
fancy.  Suddenly  he  exclaimed,  "  How  changed 
you  are  for  the  better,  Clara  !  You  are  lovelier 
to-night  than  ever  you  were.  What  is  it  in 
your  face  that  is  so  sweet  and  bewildering? 
You  were  a  pretty  girl  before  ;  now  you  are  a 
beautiful  woman." 

The  color  came  swiftly  at  his  words,  and  she 
faltered  as  she  averted  her  eyes,  "  Please  go  on 
with  your  story,  Ralph.  You  have  scarcely  be 
gun  yet.  I  fear  you  were  in  danger." 

He  came  and  stood  beside  her.  "  Clara."  he 
pleaded,  "look  at  me." 

Hesitatingly  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  hope  I  see  ?" 

The  faintest  suggestion  of  a  smile  hovered 
about  her  trembling  lips. 

"  I  hope  I  see  what  you  surely  see  in  mine. 
Come,  Clara,  you  shall  choose  before  you  hear 
my  story.  Am  I  to  be  your  husband  or  friend  ? 


TAKEN  ALIVE.  I 

for  I've  vowed   that  you  shall  not  be  without  a 
loyal  protector." 

"  Ralph,  Ralph,"  she  cried,  springing  up  and 
hiding  her  face  on  his  shoulder,  "  1  have  no 
choice  at  aU.  You  know  how  I  loved  papa  ; 
but  I've  learned  that  there's  another  ar.d 
different  kind  of  love.  J  didn't  half  understand 
you  when  you  first  spoke  ;  now  I  do.  You  will 
always  see  in  my  eyes  what  you've  seen 
to-night." 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 


PlCKNICKING  in  December  would  be  a  dreary 
experience  even  if  one  could  command  all  the 
appliances  of  comfort  which  outdoor  life  per 
mitted.  This  would  be  especially  true  in  the 
latitude  of  Boston  and  on  the  bleak  hills  over 
looking  that  city  and  its  environing  waters. 
Dreary  business  indeed  Ezekicl  Watkins  re 
garded  it  as  he  shivered  over  the  smoky  camp- 
fire  which  he  maintained  with  difficulty.  The 
sun  was  sinking  into  the  southwest  so  early  in 
the  day  that  he  remarked  irritably,  "  Durned 
if  it  was  worth  while  for  it  to  rise  at  all." 

Ezekiel  Watkins,  or  Zekc,  as  he  was  gener 
ally  known  among  his  comrades,  had  ceased  to 
be  a  resident  on  that  rocky  hillside  from 
pleasure.  His  heart  was  in  a  Connecticut  val- 
183 


184         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

ley  in  more  senses  than  one  ;  and  there  was 
not  a  more  homesick  soldier  in  the  army.  It 
will  be  readily  guessed  that  the  events  of  our 
story  occurred  more  than  a  century  ago.  The 
shots  fired  at  Bunker  Hill  had  echoed  in  every 
nook  and  corner  of  the  New-England  colonies, 
and  the  heart  of  Zeke  Watkins,  among  thou 
sands  of  others,  had  been  fired  with  military 
ardor.  With  companions  in  like  frame  of  mind 
he  had  trudged  to  Boston,  breathing  slaughter 
and  extermination  against  the  red-coated  in 
struments  of  English  tyranny.  To  Zeke  the 
expedition  had  many  of  the  elements  of  an  ex 
tended  bear-hunt,  much  exalted.  There  was 
a  spice  of  danger  and  a  rich  promise  of  novelty 
and  excitement.  The  march  to  the  lines 
about  Boston  had  been  a  continuous  ovation  ; 
grandsires  came  out  from  the  wayside  dwell 
ings  and  blessed  the  rustic  soldiers  ;  they  were, 
dined  profusely  by  the  housewives,  and  if  not 
wined,  there  had  been  slight  stint  in  New- 
England  rum  and  cider ;  the  apple-cheeked 
daughters  of  the  land  gave  them  the  meed  of 
heroes  in  advance,  and  abated  somewhat  of 
their  ruddy  hues  at  the  thought  of  the  dangers 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         185 

to  be  incurred.  Zeke  was  visibly  dilated  by 
all  this  attention,  incense,  and  military  glory  ; 
and  he  stepped  forth  from  each  village  and 
hamlet  as  if  the  world  were  scarcely  large 
enough  for  the  prowess  of  himself  and  com 
panions.  Even  on  parade  he  \vas  as  stiff  as 
his  long-barrelled  flintlock,  looking  as  if  Eng 
land  could  hope  for  no  quarter  at  his  hands  ; 
yet  he  permitted  no  admiring  glances  from 
bright  eyes  to  escape  him.  He  had  not  trav 
ersed  half  the  distance  between  his  native  ham 
let  and  Boston  before  he  was  abundantly  satis 
fied  that  pretty  Susie  RollifTe  had  made  no 
mistake  in  honoring  him  among  the  recruits 
by  marks  of  especial  favor.  He  wore  in  his 
squirrel-skin  cap  the  bit  of  blue  ribbon  she 
had  given  him,  and  with  the  mien  of  a 
Homeric  hero  had  intimated  darkly  that  it 
might  be  crimson  before  she  saw  it  again.  She 
had  clasped  her  hands,  stifled  a  little  sob,  and 
looked  at  him  admiringly.  He  needed  no 
stronger  assurance  than  her  eyes  conveyed  at 
that  moment.  She  had  been  shy  and  rather 
unapproachable  before,  sought  by  others  than 
himself,  yet  very  chary  of  her  smiles  and 


186         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

favors  to  all.  Her  ancestors  had  fought  the 
Indians,  and  had  bequeathed  to  the  demure 
little  maiden  much  of  their  own  indomitable 
spirit.  She  had  never  worn  her  heart  on  her 
sleeve,  and  was  shy  of  her  rustic  admirers 
chiefly  because  none  of  them  had  realized  her 
ideals  of  manhood  created  by  fireside  stories 
of  the  past. 

Zeke's  chief  competitor  for  Susie's  favor 
had  been  Zebulon  Jarvis  ;  and  while  he  had 
received  little  encouragement,  he  laid  his  un 
ostentatious  devotion  at  her  feet  unstintedly, 
and  she  knew  it.  Indeed,  she  was  much  in 
clined  to  laugh  at  him,  for  he  was  singularly 
bashful,  and  a  frown  from  her  overwhelmed 
him.  Unsophisticated  Susie  reasoned  that 
any  one  who  could  be  so  afraid  of  her  could 
not  be  much  of  a  man.  She  had  never  heard 
of  his  doing  anything  bold  and  spirited.  It 
might  be  said,  indeed,  that  the  attempt  to 
wring  a  livelihood  for  his  widowed  mother  and 
for  his  younger  brothers  and  sisters  from  the 
stumpy,  rocky  farm  required  courage  of  the 
highest  order  ;  but  it  was  not  of  a  kind  that 
appealed  to  the  fancy  of  a  romantic  young 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         187 

girl.  Nothing  finer  or  grander  had  Zebulon 
attempted  before  the  recruiting  officer  came 
to  Opinquake,  and  when  he  came,  poor  Zeb 
appeared  to  hang  back  so  timorously  that  he 
lost  what  little  place  he  had  in  Susie's 
thoughts.  She  was  ignorant  of  the  struggle 
taking  place  in  his  loyal  heart.  More  intense 
even  than  his  love  for  her  was  the  patriotic  fire 
which  smouldered  in  his  breast  ;  yet  when 
other  young  men  were  giving  in  their  names 
and  drilling  on  the  village  green,  he  was  ab 
sent.  To  the  war  appeals  of  those  who  sought 
him,  he  replied  briefly,  "  Can't  leave  till  fall." 
"  But  the  fighting  will  be  over  long  before 
that,"  it  was  urged. 

"  So  much  the  better  for  others,  then,  if  not 
for  me. " 

Zeke  Watkins  made  it  his  business  that 
Susie  should  hear  this  reply  in  the  abbreviated 
form  of,  "  So  much  the  better,  then." 

She  had  smiled  scornfully,  and  it  must  be 
added,  a  little  bitterly.  In  his  devotion  Zeb 
had  been  so  helpless,  so  diffidently  unable  to 
take  his  own  part  and  make  advances  that  she, 
from  odd  little  spasms  of  sympathy,  had  taken 


i88         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

his  part  for  him,  and  laughingly  repeated  to 
herself  in  solitude  all  the  fine  speeches  which 
she  perceived  he  would  be  glad  to  make.  But, 
as  has  been  intimated,  it  seemed  to  her  droll 
indeed,  that  such  a  great  stalwart  fellow 
should  appear  panic-stricken  in  her  diminutive 
presence.  In  brief,  he  had  been  timidity  em 
bodied  under  her  demurely-mischievous  blue 
eyes  ;  and  now  that  the  recruiting  officer  had 
come  and  marched  away  with  his  squad  without 
him,  she  felt  incensed  that  such  a  chicken- 
hearted  fellow  had  dared  to  lift  his  eyes  to  her. 

"  It  would  go  hard  with  the  Widow  Jarvis 
and  all  those  children  if  Zeb  'listed,"  Susie's 
mother  had  ventured  in  half-hearted  defence, 
for  did  she  not  look  upon  him  as  a  promising 
suitor. 

"  The  people  of  Opinquake  wouldn't  let  the 
widow  or  the  children  starve,"  replied  Susie, 
indignantly.  "  If  I  was  a  big  fellow  like  him,* 
my  country  would  not  call  me  twice.  Think 
how  grandfather  left  grandma  and  all  the  chil 
dren  !  " 

"  Well,  I  guess  Zeb  thinks  he  has  his  hands 
full,  wrastling  with  that  stony  farm." 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS,         i8g 

°'  He  needn't  come  to  see  me  any  more,  or 
steal  glances  at  me  'tween  meetings  on  Sun 
day,"  said  the  girl,  decisively.  "  He  cuts  a 
sorry  figure  beside  Zeke  Watkins,  who  was  the 
first  to  give  in  his  name,  and  who  began  to 
march  like  a  soldier  even  before  he  left  us." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Rolliffe  ;  "  Zeke  was  very 
forward.  If  he  holds  out  as  he  begun —  Well, 
well,  Zeke  allus  was  a  little  forward,  and  able 
to  speak  for  himself.  You  are  young  yet, 
Susan,  and  may  learn  before  you  reach  my 
years  that  the  race  isn't  allus  to  the  swift. 
Don't  be  in  haste  to  promise  yourself  to  any 
of  the  young  men." 

"  Little  danger  of  my  promising  myself  to  a 
man  who  is  afraid  even  of  me  !  I  want  a  hus 
band  like  grandfather.  He  wasn't  afraid  to 
face  anything,  and  he  honored  his  wife  by  act 
ing  as  if  she  wasn't  afraid  either." 

Zeb  gave  Susie  no  chance  to  bestow  the  re 
buffs  she  had  premeditated.  He  had  been 
down  to  witness  the  departure  of  the  Opinquake 
quota,  and  had  seen  Susie's  farewell  to  Zeke 
Watkins.  How  much  it  had  meant  he  was  not 
sure, — enough  to  leave  no  hope  or  chance  for 


1 90         S  USIE  ROLLIFFE ' S  CHRIS TMA  6. 

him,  he  had  believed  ;  but  he  had  already 
fought  his  first  battle,  and  it  had  been  a  harder 
one  than  Zeke  Watkins  or  any  of  his  comrades 
would  ever  engage  in.  He  had  returned  and 
worked  on  the  stony  farm  until  dark.  From 
dawn  until  dark  he  continued  to  work  every 
secular  day  till  September. 

His  bronzed  face  grew  as  stern  as  it  was 
thin  ;  and  since  he  would  no  longer  look  at 
her,  Susie  Rolliffe  began  to  steal  an  occasional 
and  wondering  glance  at  him  "  'tween  meet 
ings." 

No  one  understood  the  young  man  or  knew 
his  plans  except  his  patient,  sad-eyed  mother, 
and  she  learned  more  by  her  intuitions  than 
from  his  spoken  words.  She  idolized  him,  and 
he  loved  and  revered  her  ;  but  the  terrible 
Puritan  restraint  paralyzed  manifestations  of 
affection.  She  was  not  taken  by  surprise  when 
one  evening  he  said  quietly,  "  Mother,  I  guess 
I'll  start  in  a  day  or  two." 

She  could  not  repress  a  sort  of  gasping  sob, 
however,  but  after  a  few  moments  was  able  to 
say  steadily,  "I  supposed  you  were  preparing 
to  leave  us." 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         191 

"Yes,  mother,  I've  been  a-preparing.  I've 
done  my  best  to  gather  in  everything  that 
would  help  keep  you  and  the  children  and  the 
stock  through  the  winter.  The  corn  is  all 
shocked,  and  the  older  children  can  help  you 
husk  it,  and  gather  in  the  pumpkins,  the  beans, 
and  the  rest.  As  soon  as  I  finish  digging  the 
potatoes  I  think  I'll  feel  better  to  be  in  the  lines 
around  Boston.  I'd  have  liked  to  have  gone  at 
first,  but  in  order  to  fight  as  I  ought  I'd  want 
to  remember  there  was  plenty  to  keep  you  and 
the  children." 

"I'm  afraid,  Zebulon,  you've  been  fighting 
as  well  as  working  so  hard  all  summer  long. 
For  my  sake  and  the  children's,  you've 
been  letting  Susan  Rolliffe  think  meanly  of 
you." 

"I  can't  help  what  she  thinks,  mother;  I've 
tried  not  to  act  meanly." 

"Perhaps  the  God  of  the  widow  and  the 
fatherless  will  shield  and  bless  you,  my  son. 
Be  that  as  it  may,"  she  added  with  a  heavy 
sigh,  "conscience  and  His  will  must  guide  in 
everything.  If  He  says  go  forth  to  battle,  what 
am  I  that  I  should  stay  you?"  Although 


i92         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

she  did  not  dream  of  the  truth,  the  Widow 
Jarvis  was  a  disciplined  soldier  herself.  To 
her,  faith  meant  unquestioning  submission  and 
obedience;  she  had  been  taught  to  revere  a 
jealous  and  an  exacting  God  rather  than  a  loving 
one.  The  heroism  with  which  she  pursued 
her  toilsome,  narrow,  shadowed  pathway  was 
as  sublime  as  it  was  unrecognized  on  her  part. 
After  she  had  retired  she  wept  sorely,  not  only 
because  her  eldest  child  was  going  to  danger, 
and  perhaps  death,  but  also  for  the  reason 
that  her  heart  clung  to  him  so  weakly  and  sel 
fishly,  as  she  believed.  With  a  tenderness  of 
which  she  was  half-ashamed  she  filled  his  wal 
let  with  provisions  which  would  add  to  his 
comfort,  then,  both  to  his  surprise  and  her 
own,  kissed  him  good-by.  He  left  her  and 
the  younger  brood  with  an  aching  heart  of 
which  there  was  little  outward  sign,  and  with  , 
no  loftier  ambition  than  to  do  his  duty;  she  J 
followed  him  with  deep,  wistful  eyes  till  he, 
and  next  the  long  barrel  of  his  rifle,  disap 
peared  in  an  angle  of  the  road,  and  then  her 
interrupted  work  was  resumed. 

Susie  Rolliffe  was  returning   from  ar»  errand 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         193 

to  a  neighbor's  when  she  heard  the  sound  of 
long-  rapid  steps. 

A  hasty  glance  revealed  Zeb  in  something 
like  pursuit.  Her  heart  fluttered  slightly,  for 
he  had  looked  so  stern  and  sad  of  late  that  she 
had  felt  a  little  sorry  for  him  in  spite  of  her 
self.  But  since  he  could  "wrastle"  with 
nothing  more  formidable  than  a  stony  farm, 
she  did  not  wish  to  have  anything  to  say  to 
him,  or  meet  the  embarrassment  of  explaining 
a  tacit  estrangement.  She  was  glad,  therefore, 
that  her  gate  was  so  near,  and  passed  in  as  if 
she  had  not  recognized  him.  She  heard  his 
steps  become  slower  and  pause  at  the  gate, 
and  then  almost  in  shame  in  being  guilty  of 
too  marked  discourtesy,  she  turned  to  speak, 
but  hesitated  in  surprise,  for  now  she  recog 
nized  his  equipment  as  a  soldier. 

"Why,  Mr.  Jarvis,  where  are  you  going?" 
she  exclaimed. 

A  dull  red  flamed  through  the  bronze  of  his 
thin  cheeks  as  he  replied  awkwardly,  "I 
thought  I'd  take  a  turn  in  the  lines  around 
Boston/' 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  replied  mischievously,  "take 


194         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

a  turn  in  the  lines.  Then  we  may  expect  you 
back  by  corn-husking?  " 

He  was  deeply  wounded,  and  in  his  embar 
rassment  could  think  of  no  other  reply  than 
the  familiar  words,  "  'Let  not  him  that  gird- 
eth  on  his  harness  boast  himself  as  he  that 
putteth  it  off. ' 

"I  can't  help  hoping,  Mr.  Jarvis,  that 
neither  you  nor  others  will  put  it  off  too  soon, 
—not,  at  least,  while  King  George  claims  to 
be  our  master.  When  we're  free  I  can  stand 
any  amount  of  boasting." 

"You'll  never  hear  boasting  from  me,  Miss 
Susie  ;  "  and  then  an  awkward  silence  fell  be 
tween  them. 

Shyly  and  swiftly  she  raised  her  eyes.  He 
looked  so  humble,  deprecatory,  and  unsoldier- 
like  that  she  could  not  repress  a  laugh.  "I'm 
not  a  British  cannon,"  she  began,  "that  you 
should  be  so  fearful." 

His  manhood  was  now  too  deeply  wounded 
for  further  endurance  even  from  her,  for  he 
suddenly  straightened  himself,  and  throwing 
his  rifle  over  his  shoulder,  said  sternly,  "  I'm 
not  a  coward.  I  never  hung  back  from  fear. 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         195 

but  to  keep  mother  from  charity,  so  I  could 
fight  or  die  as  God  wills.  You  may  laugh  at 
the  man  who  never  gave  you  anything  but 
love,  if  you  will,  but  you  shall  never  laugh  at 
my  deeds.  Call  that  boasting  or  not  as  you 
please,"  and  he  turned  on  his  heel  to  depart. 

His  words  and  manner  almost  took  away  the 
girl's  breath,  so  unexpected  were  they,  and 
unlike  her  idea  of  the  man.  In  that  brief 
moment  a  fearless  soldier  had  flashed  himself 
upon  her  consciousness,  revealing  a  spirit  that 
would  flinch  at  nothing, — that  had  not  even 
quailed  at  the  necessity  of  forfeiting  her  es 
teem,  that  his  mother  might  not  want.  Hu 
miliated  and  conscience-stricken  that  she  had 
done  him  so  much  injustice,  she  rushed  for 
ward,  crying,  "Stop,  Zebulon  ;  please  do  not 
go  away  angry  with  me  !  I  do  not  forget  that 
we  have  been  old  friends  and  playmates.  I'm 
willing  to  own  that  I've  been  wrong  about  you, 
and  that's  a  good  deal  for  a  girl  to  do.  I  only 
wish  I  were  a  man,  and  I'd  go  with  you.1' 

Her  kindness  restored  him  to  his  awkward 
self  again,  and  he  stammered,  "  I  wish  you 
were — no,  I  don't — I  merely  stopped,  thinking 


296         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

you  might  have  a  message  ;  but  I'd  rather  not 
take  any  to  Zeke  Watkins, — will,  though,  if 
you  wish,  It  cut  me  all  up  to  have  you  think 
I  was  afraid,"  and  then  he  became  speechless. 

"  But  you  acted  as  if  you  were  afraid  of  me, 
and  that  seemed  so  ridiculous." 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  so  earnestly  with 
his  dark,  deep-set  eyes  that  hers  dropped. 
'''Miss  Susie,"  he  said  slowly,  and  speaking 
with  difficulty,  "  I  am  afraid  of  you,  next  to 
God.  I  don't  suppose  I've  any  right  to  talk 
to  you  so,  and  I  will  say  good-by.  I  was  reck 
less  when  I  spoke  before.  Perhaps — you'll  go 
and  see  mother.  My  going  is  hard  on  her." 

His  eyes  lingered  on  her  a  moment  longer, 
as  if  he  were  taking  his  last  look,  then  he 
turned  slowly  away. 

"Good-by,  Zeb,"  she  called  softly.  "I 
didn't — I  don't  understand.  Yes,  I  will  go  to, 
see  your  mother." 

Susie  also  watched  him  as  he  strode  away. 
He  tKbught  he  could  continue  on  steadfastly 
"without  looking  back,  but  when  the  road  turned 
he  also  turned,  fairly  tugged  right  about  by  his 
loyal  heart.  She  stood  where  he  had  left  her. 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         197 

and  promptly  waved  her  hand.  He  doffed  his 
cap,  and  remained  a  moment  in  an  attitude 
that  appeared  to  her  reverential,  then  passed 
out  of  view. 

The  moments  lapsed,  and  still  she  stood  in 
the  gateway,  looking  down  the  vacant  road  as 
if  dazed.  Was  it  in  truth  awkward,  bashful 
Zeb  Jarvis  who  had  just  left  her?  He  seemed 
a  new  and  distinct  being  in  contrast  to  the 
youth  whom  she  had  smiled  at  and  in  a  meas 
ure  scoffed  at.  The  little  Puritan  maiden  was 
not  a  reasoner,  but  a  creature  of  impressions 
and  swift  intuitions.  Zeb  had  not  set  his  teeth, 
faced  his  hard  duty,  and  toiled  that  long  sum 
mer  in  vain.  He  had  developed  a  manhood 
and  a  force  which  in  one  brief  moment  had 
enabled  him  to  compel  her  recognition. 

"He  will  face  anything,"  she  murmured. 
"He's  afraid  of  only  God  and  me;  what  a 
strange  thing  to  say, — afraid  of  me  next  to 
God  !  Sounds  kind  of  wicked.  What  can  he 
mean?  Zeke  Watkins  wasn't  a  bit  afraid  of 
me.  As  mother  said,  he  was  a  little  forward, 
and  I  was  fool  enough  to  take  him  at  his  own 
valuation.  Afraid  of  me  !  How  he  stood  with 


i98         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

his  cap  off  !  Do  men  ever  love  so  ?  Is  there 
a  kind  of  reverence  in  some  men's  love  ?  How 
absurd  that  a  great  strong,  brave  man,  ready 
to  face  cannons,  can  bow  down  to  such  a 
little — ' '  Her  fragmentary  exclamations  ended 
in  a  peal  of  laughter,  but  tears  dimmed  her 
blue  eyes. 

Susie  did  visit  Mrs.  Jarvis,  and  although  the 
reticent  woman  said  little  about  her  son,  what 
she  did  say  meant  volumes  to  the  girl  who 
now  had  the  right  clew  in  interpreting  his  ac 
tion  and  character.  She  too  was  reticent. 
New-England  girls  rarely  gushed  in  those 
days,  so  no  one  knew  she  was  beginning  to 
understand.  Her  eyes,  experienced  in  country 
work,  were  quick,  and  her  mind  active.  "  It 
looks  as  if  a  giant  had  been  wrestling  with  this 
stony  farm,"  she  muttered. 

Zeb  received  no  ovations  on  his  lonely  tramp 
to  the  lines,  and  the  vision  of  Susie  Rolliffe 
waving  her  hand  from  the  gateway  would  have 
blinded  him  to  all  the  bright  and  admiring 
eyes  in  the  world.  He  was  hospitably  enter 
tained,  however,  when  there  was  occasion ; 
but  the  advent  of  men  bound  for  the  army  had 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         199 

become  an  old  story.  Having  at  last  inquired 
his  way  to  the  position  occupied  by  the  Con 
necticut  troops,  he  was  assigned  to  duty  in  the 
same  company  with  Zeke  Watkins,  who  gave 
him  but  a  cool  reception,  and  sought  to  over 
awe  him  by  veteran-like  airs.  At  first  poor 
Zeb  was  awkward  enough  in  his  unaccustomed 
duties,  and  no  laugh  was  so  scornful  as  that  of 
his  rival.  Young  Jarvis,  however,  had  not 
been  many  days  in  camp  before  he  guessed 
that  Zeke's  star  was  not  in  the  ascendant. 
There  was  but  little  fighting  required,  but 
much  digging  of  intrenchments,  drill,  and 
monotonous  picket  duty.  Zeke  did  not  take 
kindly  to  such  tasks,  and  shirked  them  when 
possible.  He  was  becoming  known  as  the 
champion  grumbler  in  the  mess,  and  no  one 
escaped  his  criticism,  not  even  "  Old  Put," 
as  General  Putnam,  who  commanded  the  Con 
necticut  quota,  was  called.  Jarvis,  on  the 
other  hand,  performed  his  military  duties  as  he 
had  worked  the  farm,  and  rapidly  acquired  the 
bearing  of  a  soldier.  Indomitable  Putnam 
gave  his  men  little  rest,  and  was  ever  seeking 
to  draw  his  lines  nearer  to  Boston  and  the 


200         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

enemy's  ships.  He  virtually  fought  with  pick 
and  shovel,  and  his  working  parties  were  often 
exposed  to  fire  while  engaged  in  fortifying  the 
positions  successively  occupied.  The  Opin- 
quake  boys  regarded  themselves  as  well  sea 
soned  to  such  rude  compliments,  and  were  not 
a  little  curious  to  see  how  Zeb  would  handle  a 
shovel  with  cannon-balls  whizzing  uncomfort 
ably  near.  The  opportunity  soon  came.  Old 
Put  himself  could  not  have  been  more  coolly 
oblivious  than  the  raw  recruit.  At  last  a  ball 
smashed  his  shovel  to  smithereens  ;  he  quietly 
procured  another  and  went  on  with  his  work. 
Then  his  former  neighbors  gave  him  a  cheer, 
while  his  captain  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder, 
and  said,  "Promote  you  to  be  a  veteran  on 
the  spot  !  " 

The  days  had  grown  shorter,  colder,  and 
drearier,  and  the  discomforts  of  camp-life, 
harder  to  endure.  There  were  few  tents  even 
for  the  officers,  and  the  men  were  compelled 
to  improvise  such  shelter  as  circumstances  per 
mitted.  Huts  of  stone,  wood,  and  brush,  and 
barricades  against  the  wind,  lined  the  hillside, 
and  the  region  already  was  denuded  of  almost 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS,         201 

everything  that  would  burn.  Therefore,  when 
December  came,  Zeke  Watkins  found  that 
even  a  fire  was  a  luxury  not  to  be  had  without 
trouble.  He  had  become  thoroughly  disgusted 
with  a  soldier's  life,  and  the  military  glory 
which  had  at  first  so  dazzled  him  now  wore  the 
aspect  of  the  wintry  sky.  He  had  recently 
sought  and  attained  the  only  promotion  for 
which  his  captain  now  deemed  him  fitted, — that 
of  cook  for  about  a  dozen  of  his  comrades  ; 
and  the  close  of  the  December  day  found  him 
preparing  the  meagre  supper  which  the  limited 
rations  permitted.  By  virtue  of  his  office,. 
Zeke  was  one  of  the  best-fed  men  in  the  army, 
for  if  there  were  any  choice  morsels  he  could 
usually  manage  to  secure  them  ;  still,  he  was 
not  happy.  King  George  and  Congress  were 
both  pursuing  policies  inconsistent  with  his 
comfort,  and  he  sighed  more  and  more  fre 
quently  for  the  wide  kitchen-hearth  of  his 
home,  which  was  within  easy  visiting  distance- 
of  the  Rolliffe  farm-house.  His  term  of  en 
listment  expired  soon,  and  he  was  already 
counting  the  days.  He  was  not  alone  in  his; 
discontent,  for  there  was  much  homesickness 


202         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

and  disaffection  among  the  Connecticut  troopSc 
Many  had  already  departed,  unwilling  to  stay 
an  hour  after  the  expiration  of  their  terms  ; 
and  not  a  few  had  anticipated  the  periods 
which  legally  released  them  from  duty.  The 
organization  of  the  army  was  so  loose  that 
neither  appeals  nor  threats  had  much  influence, 
and  Washington,  in  deep  solicitude,  saw  his 
troops  melting  away. 

It  was  dark  by  the  time  the  heavy  tramp  of 
the  working  party  was  heard  returning  from 
the  fortifications.  The  great  mess  pot,  partly 
filled  with  pork  and  beans,  was  bubbling  over 
the  fire  ;  Zeke,  shifting  his  position  from  time  to 
time  to  avoid  the  smoke  which  the  wind,  as  if  it 
had  a  spite  against  him,  blew  in  his  face,  was 
sourly  contemplating  his  charge  and  his  lot, 
bent  on  grumbling  to  the  others  with  even 
greater  gusto  than  he  had  complained  to  him 
self.  His  comrades  carefully  put  away  their 
intrenching  tools,  for  they  were  held  responsi 
ble  for  them,  and  then  gathered  about  the  fire, 
clamoring  for  supper. 

"Zeke,  you  lazy  loon,"  cried  Nat  Atkinson, 
"how  many  pipes  have  you  smoked  to-day? 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         203 

If  you'd  smoke  less  and  forage  and  dun  the 
commissary  more,  we'd  have  a  little  fresh  meat 
once  in  a  hundred  years." 

"Yes,  just  about  once  in  a  hundred  years  !" 
snarled  Zeke. 

'*  You  find  something  to  keep  fat  on,  any 
how.  We'll  broil  you  some  cold  night.  Trot 
out  your  beans  if  there's  nothing  else." 

"Growl  away,"  retorted  Zeke.  "'Twon't 
be  long  before  I'll  be  eating  chickens  and 
pumpkin-pie  in  Opinquake,  instead  of  cooking 
beans  and  rusty  pork  for  a  lot  of  hungry 
wolves." 

"You'd  be  the  hungriest  wolf  of  the  lot  if 
you'd  'a'  been  picking  and  shovelling  frozen 
ground  all  day." 

"I  didn't  'list  to  be  a  ditch-digger!"  said 
Zeke.  ' '  I  thought  I  was  going  to  be  a  soldier. ' ' 

"And  you  turned  out  a  cook  !  "  quietly  re 
marked  Zeb  Jarvis. 

"Well,  my  hero  of  the  smashed  shovel,  what 
do  you  expect  to  be, — Old  Put's  successor? 
You  know,  fellows,  it's  settled  that  you're  to  dig 
your  way  into  Boston,  tunnel  under  the  water 
when  you  come  to  it.  Of  course  Put  will  die 


204         S  US  IE  ROLLIFFE '  5  CHRIS  TMA  S. 

of  old  age  before  you  get  half  there.  Zeb'll 
be  the  chap  of  all  others  to  command  a  divi 
sion  of  shovellers.  I  see  you  with  a  pickaxe 
strapped  on  your  side  instead  of  a  sword." 

"Lucky  I'm  not  in  command  now/'  replied 
Zeb,  "or  you'd  shovel  dirt  under  fire  to  the  last 
hour  of  your  enlistment.  I'd  give  grumblers 
like  you  something  to  grumble  about.  See 
here,  fellows,  I'm  sick  of  this  seditious  talk  in 
our  mess.  The  Connecticut  men  are  getting  to 
be  the  talk  of  the  army.  You  heard  a  squad 
of  New-Hampshire  boys  jeer  at  us  to-day,  and 
ask,  'When  are  ye  going  home  to  mother?' 
You  ask,  Zeke  Watkins,  what  I  expect  to  be. 
I  expect  to  be  a  soldier,  and  obey  orders  as 
long  as  Old  Put  and  General  Washington  want 
a  man.  All  I  ask  is  to  be  home  summers  long 
enough  to  keep  mother  and  the  children  off 
the  town.  Now  what  do  you  expect  to  be 
after  you  give  up  your  cook's  ladle  ?  " 

"  None  o'  your  business." 

"  He's  going  home  to  court  Susie  Rolliffe," 
cried  Nat  Atkinson.  "They'll  be  married  in 
the  spring,  and  go  into  the  chicken  business. 
That'd  just  suit  Zeke." 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         205 

"It  would  not  suit  Susie  Rolliffe,"  said 
Zeb,  hotly.  "A  braver,  better  girl  doesn't 
breathe  in  the  colonies,  and  the  man  that 
says  a  slurring  word  against  her's  got  to  fight 
me." 

"What!  Has  she  given  Zeke  the  mitten 
for  your  sake,  Zeb?"  piped  little  Hiram 
Woodbridge. 

"She  hasn't  given  me  anything,  and  I've 
got  no  claim  ;  but  she  is  the  kind  of  girl  that 
every  fellow  from  Opinquake  should  stand  up 
for.  We  all  know  that  there  is  nothing  chick 
en-hearted  about  her." 

"Right,  by  George, — George  W.,  I  mean, 
and  not  the  king,"  responded  Hiram  Wood- 
bridge.  "  Here's  to  her  health,  Zeb,  and  your 
success  !  I  believe  she'd  rather  marry  a  soldier 
than  a  cook." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Zeb.  "You  stand  as 
good  a  chance  as  I  do  ;  but  don't  let's  bandy 
her  name  about  in  camp  any  more'n  we  would 
our  mothers'.  The  thing  for  us  to  do  now  is 
to  show  that  the  men  from  Connecticut  have 
as  much  backbone  as  any  other  fellows  in  the 
army,  North  or  South.  Zeke  may  laugh  at 


206         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

Old  Put's  digging,  but  you'll  soon  find  that 
he'll  pick  his  way  to  a  point  where  he  can  give 
the  Britishers  a  dig  under  the  fifth  rib.  We've 
got  the  best  general  in  the  army.  Washing, 
ton,  with  all  his  Southern  style,  believes  in 
him  and  relies  on  him.  Whether  their  time's 
up  or  not,  it's  a  burning  shame  that  so  many 
of  his  troops  are  sneaking  off  home." 

"It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  talk,  Zeb 
Jarvis,"  growled  Zeke.  "You  haven't  been 
here  very  long  yet  ;  and  you  stayed  at  home 
when  others  started  out  to  fight.  Now  that 
you've  found  that  digging  and  not  fighting  is 
the  order  of  the  day,  you're  just  suited.  It's 
the  line  of  soldiering  you  are  cut  out  for. 
When  fighting  men  and  not  ditch-diggers  are 
wanted,  you'll  find  me — 

"All  right,  Watkins,"  said  the  voice  of  Cap 
tain  Dean  from  without  the  circle  of  licfht. 

o 

"According  to  your  own  story  you  are  just 
the  kind  of  man  needed  to-night, — no  ditch- 
digging  on  hand,  but  dangerous  service.  I  de 
tail  you,  for  you've  had  rest  compared  with 
the  other  men.  I  ask  for  volunteers  from 
those  who've  been  at  work  all  day." 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         207 

Zeb  Jarvis  was  on  his  feet  instantly,  and  old 
Ezra  Stokes  also  began  to  rise  with  difficulty. 
"  No,  Stokes,"  resumed  the  officer,  "you  can't 
go.  I  know  you've  suffered  with  the  rheuma 
tism  all  day,  and  have  worked  well  in  spite  of  it. 
For  to-night's  work  I  want  young  fellows  with 
good  legs  and  your  spirit.  How  is  it  you're 
here  anyhow,  Stokes?  Your  time's  up." 

"  We  ain't  into  Boston  yet,"  was  the  quiet 
reply. 

"  So  you  want  to  stay  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  you  shall  cook  for  the  men  till  you're 
better.  I  won't  keep  so  good  a  soldier, 
though,  at  such  work  any  longer  than  I  can 
help.  Your  good  example  and  that  of  the 
gallant  Watkins  has  brought  out  the  whole 
squad.  I  think  I'll  put  Jarvis  in  command, 
though  ;  Zeke  might  be  rash,  and  attempt  the 
capture  of  Boston  before  morning  ;"  and  the 
facetious  captain,  who  had  once  been  a  neigh 
bor,  concluded,  "Jarvis,  see  that  every  man's 
piece  is  primed  and  ready  for  use.  Be  at  my 
hut  in  fifteen  minutes."  Then  he  passed  on 
to  the  other  camp-fires. 


2oS         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

In  a  few  minutes  Ezra  Stokes  was  alone  by 
the  fire,  almost  roasting  his  lame  leg,  and 
grumbling  from  pain  and  the  necessity  of  en 
forced  inaction.  He  was  a  taciturn,  middle- 
aged  man,  and  had  been  the  only  bachelor  of 
mature  years  in  Opinquake.  Although  he 
rarely  said  much,  he  had  been  a  great  listener, 
and  no  one  had  been  better  versed  in  neighbor 
hood  affairs.  In  brief,  he  had  been  the  village 
cobbler,  and  had  not  only  taken  the  measure 
of  Susie  Rolliffe's  little  foot,  but  also  of  her 
spirit.  Like  herself,  he  had  been  misled  at  first 
by  the  forwardness  of  Zeke  Watkins  and  the 
apparent  backwardness  of  Jarvis.  Actual  ser 
vice  had  changed  his  views  very  decidedly. 
When  Zeb  appeared  he  had  watched  the  course 
of  this  bashful  suitor  with  interest  which  had 
rapidly  ripened  into  warm  but  undemonstrative 
good-will.  The  young  fellow  had  taken  pains 
to  relieve  the  older  man,  had  carried  his  toofe 
for  him,  and  more  than  once  with  his  strong 
hands  had  almost  rubbed  the  rheumatism  out 
of  the  indomitable  cobbler's  leg.  He  had  re 
ceived  but  slight  thanks,  and  had  acted  as  if 
he  didn't  care  for  any.  Stokes  was  not  a  man 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         209 

to  return  favors  in  words  ;  he  brooded  over 
his  gratitude  as  if  it  were  a  grudge.  "  I'll  get 
even  with  that  young  Jarvis  yet,"  he  muttered, 
as  he  nursed  his  leg  over  the  fire.  "  I  know  he 
worships  the  ground  that  little  Rolliffe  girl 
treads  on,  though  she  don't  tread  on  much  at 
a  time.  She  never  trod  on  me  nuther,  though 
I've  had  her  foot  in  my  hand  more'n  once. 
She  looked  at  the  man  that  made  her  shoes  as 
if  she  would  like  to  make  him  happier.  When 
a  little  tot,  she  used  to  say  I  could  come  and 
live  with  her  when  I  got  too  old  to  take  care 
of  myself.  Lame  as  I  be,  I'd  walk  to  Opin- 
quake  to  give  her  a  hint  in  her  choosin'. 
Guess  Hi  Woodbridge  is  right,  and  she 
wouldn't  be  long  in  making  up  her  mind  be 
twixt  a  soger  and  a  cook, — a  mighty  poor  one 
at  that.  Somehow  or  nuther  I  must  let  her 
know  before  Zeke  Watkins  sneaks  home  and 
parades  around  as  a  soldier  'bove  ditch-digging. 
I've  taken  his  measure. 

"  He'll  be  putting  on  veteran  airs,  telling 
big  stories  of  what  he's  going  to  do  when  sol 
diers  are  wanted,  and  drilling  such  fools  as  be 
lieve  in  him.  Young  gals  are  often  taken  by 


210         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

such  strutters,  and  think  that  men  like  Jarvis 
who  darsn't  speak  for  themselves  are  of  no 
account.  But  I'll  put  a  spoke  in  Zeke's  wheel, 
if  I  have  to  get  the  captain  to  write." 

It  thus  may  be  gathered  that  the  cobbler 
had  much  to  say  to  himself  when  alone,  though 
so  taciturn  to  others. 

The  clouds  along  the  eastern  horizon  were 
stained  with  red  before  the  reconnoitring  party 
returned.  Stokes  had  managed,  by  hobbling 
about,  to  keep  up  the  fire  and  to  fill  the  mess- 
kettle  with  the  inevitable  pork  and  beans.  The 
hungry,  weary  men  therefore  gave  their  new 
cook  a  cheer  when  they  saw  the  good  fire  and 
provision  awaiting  them.  A  moment  later, 
however,  Jarvis  observed  how  lame  Stokes  had 
become  ;  he  took  the  cobbler  by  the  shoulder 
and  sat  him  down  in  the  warmest  nook,  saying, 
"  I'll  be  assistant  cook  until  you  are  better* 
As  Zeke  says,  I'm  a  wolf  sure  enough  ;  but  as 
soon's  the  beast's  hunger  is  satisfied,  I'll  rub 
that  leg  of  yours  till  you'll  want  to  dance  a 
jig  ;  "  and  with  the  ladle  wrung  from  Stokes's 
reluctant  hand,  he  began  stirring  the  seething 
contents  of  the  kettle. 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         211 

Then  little  Hi  Woodbridge  piped  in  his  shrill 
voice,  "  Another  cheer  for  our  assistant  cook 
and  ditch-digger  !  I  say,  Zeke,  wouldn't  you 
like  to  tell  Ezra  that  Zeb  has  showed  himself 
fit  for  something  more  than  digging?  You 
expressed  your  opinion  very  plain  If  st  night, 
and  may  have  a  different  one  now." 

Zeke  growled  something  inaudible,  and 
stalked  to  his  hut  in  order  to  put  away  his 
equipments. 

"I'm  cook-in-chief  yet,"  Stokes  declared; 
"and  not  a  bean  will  any  one  of  you  get  till 
you  report  all  that  happened." 

"Well,"  piped  Hi,  "you  may  stick  a  feather 
in  your  old  cap,  Ezra,  for  our  Opinquake  lad 
captured  a  British  officer  last  night,  and  Old 
Put  is  pumping  him  this  blessed  minute." 

"Well,  well,  that  is  news.  It  must  have 
been  Zeke  who  did  that  neat  job,"  exclaimed 
Stokes,  ironically;  "he's  been  a-pining  for  the 
soldier  business." 

"No,  no;  Zeke's  above  such  night  scrim 
mages.  He  wants  to  swim  the  bay  and  walk 
right  into  Boston  in  broad  daylight,  so  every 
body  can  see  him.  Come,  Zeb,  tell  how  it 


212         S  USIE  ROLLIFFE '  5  CHR IS  TMA  S. 

happened.       It  was   so   confounded   dark,    no 
one  can  tell  but  you." 

"There  isn't  much  to  tell  that  you  fellows 
don't  know,"  was  Zeb's  laconic  answer.  "We 
had  sneaked  down  on  the  neck  so  close  to  the 
enemy's  lines — 

"Yes,  yes,  Zeb  Jarvis,"  interrupted  Stokes, 
"that's  the  kind  of  sneaking  you're  up  to,— 
close  to  the  enemy's  lines.  Go  on." 

"Well,  I  crawled  up  so  close  that  I  saw  a 
Britisher  going  the  round  of  the  sentinels,  and 
I  pounced  on  him  and  brought  him  out  on  the 
run,  that's  all." 

"Oho!  you  both  ran  away,  then?  That 
wasn't  good  soldiering  either,  was  it,  Zeke  ?  " 
commented  Stokes,  in  his  dry  way. 

"It's  pretty  good  soldiering  to  stand  fire 
within  an  inch  of  your  nose,"  resumed  Hi, 
who  had  become  a  loyal  friend  and  adherent  oi 
his  tall  comrade.  "Zeb  was  so  close  on  the 
Britisher  when  he  fired  his  pistol  that  we  saw 
the  faces  of  both  in  the  flash  ;  and  a  lot  of 
bullets  sung  after  us,  I  can  tell  you,  as  we 
dusted  out  of  those  diggin's." 

"Compliments  of  General   Putnam   to   Ser- 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS,        213 

geant  Zebulon  Jarvis,"  said  an  orderly,  riding 
out  of  the  dim  twilight  of  the  morning.  "The 
general  requests  your  presence  at  headquar 
ters." 

"Sergeant !  promoted  !  Another  cheer  for 
Zeb  !  "  and  the  Opinquake  boys  gave  it  with 
hearty  good-will. 

"Jerusalem,  fellows!  I'd  like  to  have  a 
chance  at  those  beans  before  I  go  !  "  but  Zeb 
promptly  tramped  off  with  the  orderly. 

When  he  returned  he  was  subjected  to  a  fire 
of  questions  by  the  two  or  three  men  still 
awake,  but  all  they  could  get  out  of  him  was 
that  he  had  been  given  a  good  breakfast. 
From  Captain  Dean,  who  was  with  the  general 
at  the  time  of  the  examination,  it  leaked  out 
that  Zeb  was  in  the  line  of  promotion  to  a  rank 
higher  than  that  of  sergeant. 

The  next  few  days  passed  uneventfully  ;  and 
Zeke  was  compelled  to  resume  the  pick  and 
shovel  again.  Stokes  did  his  best  to  fulfil  his 
duties,  but  it  had  become  evident  to  all  that  the 
exposure  of  camp  would  soon  disable  him  ut 
terly.  Jarvis  and  Captain  Dean  persuaded  him 
to  go  home  for  the  winter,  and  the  little  squad 


2i4         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

raised  a  sum  which  enabled  him  to  make  the 
journey  in  a  stage.  Zeke,  sullen  toward  his  jeer 
ing  comrades,  but  immensely  elated  in  secret, 
had  shaken  the  dust — snow  and  slush  rather — of 
camp-life  from  his  feet  the  day  before.  He 
had  the  grace  to  wait  till  the  time  of  his  en 
listment  expired,  and  that  was  more  than 
could  be  said  of  many. 

It  spoke  well  for  the  little  Opinquake  quota 
that  only  two  others  besides  Zeke  availed  them 
selves  of  their  liberty.  Poor  Stokes  was  al 
most  forced  away,  consoled  by  the  hope  of  re 
turning  in  the  spring.  Zeb  was  sore-hearted 
on  the  day  of  Zeke's  departure.  His  heart 
was  in  the  Connecticut  Valley  also.  No  mes 
sage  had  come  to  him  from  Susie  Rolliffe. 
Those  were  not  the  days  of  swift  and  frequent 
communication.  Even  Mrs.  Jarvis  had  written 
but  seldom,  and  her  missives  were  brief., 
Mother-love  glowed  through  the  few  quaint 
and  scriptural  phrases  like  heat  in  anthracite 
coals.  All  that  poor  Zeb  could  learn  from 
them  was  that  Susie  Rolliffe  had  kept  her 
word  and  had  been  to  the  farm  more  than 
once  ;  but  the  girl  had  been  as  reticent  a<*  the 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         215 

mother.  Zeke  was  now  on  his  way  home  to 
prosecute  his  suit  in  person,  and  Zeb  well  knew 
how  forward  and  plausible  he  could  be.  There 
was  no  deed  of  daring  that  he  would  not  prom 
ise  to  perform  after  spring  opened,  and  Zeb 
reasoned  gloomily  that  a  present  lover,  impas 
sioned  and  importunate,  would  stand  a  better 
chance  than  an  absent  one  who  had  never  been 
able  to  speak  for  himself. 

When  it  was  settled  that  Stokes  should  re 
turn  to  Opinquake,  Zeb  determined  that  he 
would  not  give  up  the  prize  to  Zeke  without 
one  decisive  effort  ;  and  as  he  was  rubbing  the 
cobbler's  leg,  he  stammered,  "  I  say,  Ezra,  will 
you  do  me  a  turn  ?  'Twon't  be  so  much,  what 
I  ask,  except  that  I'll  like  you  to  keep  mum 
about  it,  and  you're  a  good  hand  at  keeping 
mum." 

"I  know  what  yer  driving  at,  Zeb.  Write 
yer  letter  and  I'll  deliver  it  with  my  own 
hands." 

"  Well,  now  I'm  satisfied,  I  can  stay  on  and 
fight  it  out  with  a  clear  mind.  When  Zeke 
marched  away  last  summer,  I  thought  it  was 
all  up  with  me  ;  and  I  can  tell  you  that  any 


216         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

fighting  that's  to  do  about  Boston  will  be  fun 
compared  with  the  fighting  I  did  while  hoeing 
corn  and  mowing  grass.  But  I  don't  believe 
that  Susie  Rolliffe  is  promised  to  Zeke  Wat- 
kins,  or  any  one  else  yet,  and  I'm  going  to 
give  her  a  chance  to  refuse  me  plump." 

"That's  the  way  to  do  it,  Zeb,"  said  the 
bachelor  cobbler,  with  an  emphasis  that  would 
indicate  much  successful  experience.  "Ask 
ing  a  girl  plump  is  like  standing  up  in  a  fair 
fight.  It  gives  the  girl  a  chance  to  bowl  you 
over,  if  that's  her  mind,  so  there  can't  be  any 
mistake  about  it  ;  and  it  seems  to  me  the 
women-folks  ought  to  have  all  the  chances  that 
in  any  way  belong  to  them.  They  have  got 
few  enough  anyhow." 

"  And  you  think  it'll  end  in  my  being  bowled 
over  ? ' ' 

"  How  should  I  know,  or  you  either,  unlessj 
you  make  a  square  trial  ?  You're  such  a  strap 
ping,  fighting  feller  that  nothing  but  a  cannon- 
ball  or  a  woman  ever  will  knock  you  off  your 
pins." 

"See  here,  Ezra  Stokes,  the  girl  of  my 
heart  may  refuse  me  just  as  plump  as  I  offer 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         217 

myself  ;  and  if  that's  her  mind  she  has  a  right 
to  do  it.  But  I  don't  want  either  you  or  her  to 
think  I  won't  stand  on  my  feet.  I  won't  even 
fight  any  more  recklessly  than  my  duty  requires. 
I  have  a  mother  to  take  care  of,  even  if  I 
never  have  a  wife." 

"  I'll  put  in  a  few  pegs  right  along  to  keep 
in  mind  what  you  say  ;  and  I'll  give  you  a  fair 
show  by  seeing  to  it  that  the  girl  gets  your  let 
ter  before  Zeke  can  steal  a  march  on  you." 

"  That's  all  I  ask,"  said  Zeb,  with  com 
pressed  lips.  "  She  shall  choose  between  us. 
It's  hard  enough  to  write,  but  it  will  be  a 
sight  easier  than  facing  her.  Not  a  word 
of  this  to  another  soul,  Ezra;  but  I'm  not 
going  to  use  you  like  a  mail-carrier,  but  a 
friend.  After  all,  there  are  few  in  Opinquake, 
I  suppose,  but  know  I'd  give  my  eyes  for  her, 
so  there  isn't  much  use  of  my  putting  on  secret 

airs." 

"  I'm  not  a  talker,  and  you  might  have  sent 
your  letter  by  a  worse  messenger'n  me,"  was 
the  laconic  reply. 

Zeb  had  never  written  a  love-letter,  and  was 
at  a  loss  how  to  begin  or  end  it.  But  time 


218         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

pressed,  and  he  had  to  say  what  was  upper 
most  in  his  mind.      It  ran  as  follows  : — 

"I  don't  know  how  to  write  so  as  to  give 
my  words  weight.  I  cannot  come  home  ;  I 
will  not  come  as  long  as  mother  and  the  chil 
dren  can  get  on  without  me.  And  men  are 
needed  here  ;  men  are  needed.  The  general 
fairly  pleads  with  the  soldiers  to  stay.  Stokes 
would  stay  if  he  could.  We're  almost  driving 
him  home.  I  know  you  will  be  kind  to  him, 
and  remember  he  has  few  to  care  for  him.  I 
cannot  speak  for  myself  in  person  very  soon, 
if  ever.  Perhaps  I  could  not  if  I  stood  before 
you.  You  laugh  at  me  ;  but  if  you  knew  how 
I  love  you  and  remember  you,  how  I  honor 
and  almost  worship  you  in  my  heart,  you 
might  understand  me  better.  Why  is  it 
strange  I  should  be  afraid  of  you  ?  Only  God 
has  more  power  over  me  than  you.  Will  you 
be  my  wife  ?  I  will  do  anything  to  win  you 
that  you  can  ask.  Others  will  plead  with  you 
in  person.  Will  you  let  this  letter  plead  for 
the  absent  ?  " 

Zeb  went  to  the  captain's  quarters  and  got 
some  wax  with  which  to  seal  this  appeal,  then 
saw  Stokes  depart  with  the  feeling  that  his 
destiny  was  now  at  stake. 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         219 

Meanwhile  Zeke  Watkins,  with  a  squad  of 
homeward-bound  soldiers,  was  trudging  toward 
Opinquake.  They  soon  began  to  look  into 
one  another's  faces  in  something  like  dismay. 
But  little  provision  was  in  their  wallets  when 
they  had  started,  for  there  was  little  to  draw 
upon,  and  that  furnished  grudgingly,  as  may 
well  be  supposed.  Zeke  had  not  cared.  He 
remembered  the  continuous  feasting  that  had 
attended  his  journey  to  camp,  and  supposed 
that  he  would  only  have  to  present  himself  to 
the  road-side  farmhouses  in  order  to  enjoy  the 
fat  of  the  land.  This  hospitality  he  proposed 
to  repay  abundantly  by  camp  reminiscences  in 
which  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  insinuate 
that  the  hero  of  the  scene  was  present. 

In  contrast  to  these  rose-hued  expectations, 
doors  were  slammed  in  their  faces,  and  they 
were  treated  little  better  than  tramps.  "  I 
suppose  the  people  near  Boston  have  been 
called  on  too  often  and  imposed  on  too,"  Zeke 
reasoned  rather  ruefully.  "When  we  once 
get  over  the  Connecticut  border  we'll  begin  to 
find  ourselves  at  home  ;"  and  spurred  by  hun 
ger  and  cold,  as  well  as  hope,  they  pushed  OP 


220         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

desperately,  subsisting .  on  such  coarse  pro. 
visions  as  they  could  obtain,  sleeping  in  barns 
when  it  stormed,  and  not  infrequently  by  a  fire 
in  the  woods.  At  last  they  passed  the  Con 
necticut  border,  and  led  by  Zeke  they  urged 
their  way  to  a  large  farm-house,  at  which,  but 
a  few  months  before,  the  table  had  groaned  un 
der  rustic  dainties,  and  feather-beds  had  lux 
uriously  received  the  weary  recruits  bound  to 
the  front.  They  approached  the  opulent  farm 
in  the  dreary  dark  of  the  evening,  and  pursued 
by  a  biting  east  wind  laden  with  snow.  Not 
only  the  weather,  but  the  very  dogs  seemed  to 
have  a  spite  against  them  ;  and  the  family  had 
to  rush  out  to  call  them  off. 

"Weary  soldiers  ask  for  shelter,"  began 
Zeke. 

"  Of  course  you're  bound  for  the  lines," 
said  the  matronly  housewife.  "  Come  in."  J 

Zeke  thought  they  would  better  enter  at 
once,  before  explaining  ;  and  truly  the  large 
kitchen,  with  a  great  fire  blazing  on  the  hearth, 
seemed  like  heaven.  The  door  leading  into 
the  family  sitting-room  was  open,  and  there 
was  another  fire,  with  the  red-cheeked  girls  and 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         221 

the  white-haired  grandsire  before  it,  their  eyes 
turned  expectantly  toward  the  newcomers. 
Instead  of  hearty  welcome,  there  was  a  ques 
tioning  look  on  every  face,  even  on  that  of  the 
kitchen-maid.  Zeke's  four  companions  had  a 
sort  of  hang-dog  look, — for  they  had  been 
cowed  by  the  treatment  received  along  the 
road  ;  but  he  tuied  to  bear  himself  confidently, 
and  began  with  an  insinuating  smile,  "  Perhaps 
I  should  hardly  expect  you  to  remember  me. 
I  passed  this  way  last  summer — 

"Passed  this  way  last  summer?"  repeated 
the  matron,  her  face  growing  stern.  "We  who 
cannot  fight  are  ready  and  glad  to  share  all  we 
have  with  those  who  fight  for  us.  Since  you 
carry  arms  we  might  very  justly  think  you  are 
hastening  forward  to  use  them." 

"These  are  our  own  arms  ;  we  furnished 
them  ourselves,"  Zeke  hastened  to  say. 

' '  Oh,  indeed, ' '  replied  the  matron,  coldly  ;  "  I 
supposed  that  not  only  the  weapons,  but  the 
ones  who  carry  them,  belonged  to  the  country. 
I  hope  you  are  not  deserting  from  the  army." 

"I  assure  you  we  are  not.  Our  terms  of 
enlistment  have  expired." 


222         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

"And  your  country's  need  was  over  at  the 
same  moment  ?  Are  you  hastening  home  at 
this  season  to  plough  and  sow  and  reap  ?  " 

"Well,  madam,  after  being  away  so  long  we 
felt  like  having  a  little  comfort  and  seeing  the 
folks.  We  stayed  as  long  as  we  agreed. 
When  spring  opens,  or  before,  if  need  be — " 

"Pardon  me,  sir;  the  need  is  now.  The 
country  is  not  to  be  saved  by  men  who  make 
bargains  like  day-laborers,  and  who  quit  when 
the  hour  is  up,  but  by  soldiers  who  give  them 
selves  to  their  country  as  they  would  to  their 
wives  and  sweethearts.  My  husband  and  sons 
are  in  the  army  you  have  deserted.  General 
Washington  has  written  to  our  governor  ask 
ing  whether  an  example  should  not  be  made  of 
the  men  who  have  deserted  the  cause  of  their 
country  at  this  critical  time  when  the  enemy 
are  receiving  re-enforcements.  We  are  told, 
that  Connecticut  men  have  brought  disgrace 
on  our  colony  and  have  imperilled  the  whole 
army.  You  feel  like  taking  comfort  and  see 
ing  the  folks.  The  folks  do  not  feel  like  see 
ing  you.  My  husband  and  the  brave  men  in 
the  lines  are  in  all  the  more  danger  because  of 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.        223 

your  desertion,  for  a  soldier's  time  never  ex 
pires  when  the  enemy  is  growing  stronger  and 
threatening  every  home  in  the  land.  If  all 
followed  your  example,  the  British  would 
soon  be  upon  your  heels,  taking  from  us  our 
honor  and  our  all.  We  are  not  ignorant  of 
the  critical  condition  of  our  army  ;  and  I  can 
tell  you,  sir,  that  if  many  more  of  our  men 
come  home,  the  women  will  take  their  places." 

Zeke's  companions  succumbed  to  the  stern 
arraignment,  and  after  a  brief  whispered  con 
sultation  one  spoke  for  the  rest.  "Madam," 
he  said,  ''you  put  it  in  a  way  that  we  hadn't 
realized  before.  We'll  right-about-face  and 
march  back  in  the  morning,  for  we  feel  that 
we'd  rather  face  all  the  British  in  Boston  than 
any  more  Connecticut  women." 

"Then,  sirs,  you  shall  have  supper  and 
shelter  and  welcome,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

Zeke  assumed  an  air  of  importance  as  he 
said,  "There  are  reasons  why  I  must  be  at 
home  for  a  time,  but  I  not  only  expect  to  re 
turn,  but  also  to  take  many  back  with  me." 

"I  trust  your  deeds  may  prove  as  large 
as  your  words,"  was  the  chilly  reply  ;  and 


224         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

then  he  was  made  to  feel  that  he  was  barely 
tolerated.  Some  hints  from  his  old  associates 
added  to  the  disfavor  which  the  family  took 
but  little  pains  to  conceal.  There  was  a  large 
vein  of  selfish  calculation  in  Zeke's  nature,  and 
he  was  not  to  be  swept  away  by  any  im 
pulses.  He  believed  he  could  have  a  prolonged 
visit  home,  yet  manage  so  admirably  that  when 
he  returned  he  would  be  followed  by  a  squad  of 
recruits,  and  chief  of  all  he  would  be  the  trium 
phant  suitor  of  Susie  Rolliffe.  Her  manner  in 
parting  had  satisfied  him  that  he  had  made  so 
deep  an  impression  that  it  would  be  folly  not  to 
follow  it  up.  He  trudged  the  remainder  of  the 
journey  alone,  and  secured  tolerable  treatment 
by  assuring  the  people  that  he  was  returning  for 
recruits  for  the  army.  He  reached  home  in 
the  afternoon  of  Christmas  ;  and  although  the 
day  was  almost  completely  ignored  in  the\ 
Puritan  household,  yet  Mrs.  Watkins  forgot 
country,  Popery,  and  all,  in  her  mother-love, 
and  Zeke  supped  on  the  finest  turkey  of  the 
flock.  Old  Mr.  Watkins,  it  is  true,  looked 
rather  grim,  but  the  reception  had  been  reas 
suring  in  the  main  ;  and  Zeke  had  resolved  on 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.        225 

a  line  of  tactics  which  would  make  him,  as 
he  believed,  the  military  hero  of  the  town. 
After  he  had  satisfied  an  appetite  which  had 
been  growing  ever  since  he  left  camp,  he  started 
to  call  on  Susie  in  all  the  bravery  of  his  best  at- 
tire,  filled  with  sanguine  expectations  inspired 
by  memories  of  the  past  and  recent  potations 

of  cider. 

Meanwhile  Susie  had  received  a  guest  earlier 
in  the  day.     The  stage  had  stopped  at  the  gate 
where  she  had  stood  in  the  September  sunshine 
and    waved   her   bewildered    farewell    to  Zeb. 
There  was  no  bewilderment  or  surprise  now  at 
her    strange    and    unwonted    sensations. 
had  learned  why  she  had   stood  looking  after 
him  dazed  and  spellbound.      Under  the  magic 
of  her  own  light  irony  she  had  seen  her  droop, 
ing  rustic  lover  transformed  into  the  ideal  man 
who  could   face  anything   except  her  unkind- 
ness.      She  had  guessed  the  deep  secret  of  his 
timidity.     It  was  a  kind  of  fear  of  which  she 
had  not  dreamed,  and  which  touched  her  in- 
nermost  soul. 

When  the  stage  stopped  at  the  gate,  and  she 
saw  the  driver  helping  out  Ezra  Stokes,  a  swift 


226         5  USIE  ROLLIFFE ' S  CHRISTMA  S. 

presentiment  made  her  sure  that  she  would 
hear  from  one  soldier  who  was  more  to  her 
than  all  the  generals.  She  was  soon  down  the 
walk,  the  wind  sporting  in  her  light-gold  hair, 
supporting  the  cobbler  on  the  other  side. 

"Ah,  Miss  Susie!"  he  said,  "I  am  about 
worn  out,  sole  and  upper.  It  breaks  my  heart, 
when  men  are  so  sorely  needed,  to  be  thrown 
aside  like  an  old  shoe." 

The  girl  soothed  and  comforted  him,  en 
sconced  him  by  the  fireside,  banishing  the  chill 
from  his  heart,  while  Mrs.  RollifTe  warmed  his 
blood  by  a  strong,  hot  drink.  Then  the  mother 
hastened  away  to  get  dinner,  while  Susie  sat 
down  near,  nervously  twisting  and  untwisting 
her  fingers,  with  questions  on  her  lips  which 
she  dared  not  utter,  but  which  brought  blushes 
to  her  cheeks.  Stokes  looked  at  her  and  sighed 
over  his  lost  youth,  yet  smiled  as  he  thought, 
"Guess  I'll  get  even  with  that  Zeb  Jarvis  to 
day."  Then  he  asked,  "Isn't  there  any  one 
you  would  like  to  hear  about  in  camp  ?  " 

She  blushed  deeper  still,  and  named  every 
one  who  had  gone  from  Opinquake  except 
Zeb.  At  last  she  said  a  little  ironically,  "I 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS,         227 

suppose  Ezekiel  Watkins  is  almost  thinking 
about  being  a  general  about  this  time  ?  " 

"  Hasn't  he  been  here  telling  you  what  he 
is  thinking  about  ?  " 

"  Been  here  !  Do  you  mean  to  say  he  has 
come  home?  " 

"  He  surely  started  for  home.  All  the  gen 
erals  and  a  yoke  of  oxen  couldn't  'a'  kept  him 
in  camp,  he  was  so  homesick, — lovesick  too,  I 
guess.  Powerful  compliment  to  you,  Miss 
Susie,"  added  the  politic  cobbler,  feeling  his 
way,  "that  you  could  draw  a  man  straight 
from  his  duty  like  one  of  these  'ere  stump-ex 
tractors." 

"No  compliment  to  me  at  all  !  "  cried  the 
girl,  indignantly.  "He  little  understands  me 
who  seeks  my  favor  by  coming  home  at  a  time 
like  this.  The  Connecticut  women  are  up  in 
arms  at  the  way  our  men  are  coming  home. 
No  offence  to  you,  Mr.  Stokes.  You're  sick, 
and  should  come  ;  but  I'd  like  to  go  myself  to 
show  some  of  the  strong  young  fellows  what 
we  think  of  them." 

"  Coming  home  was  worse  than  rheumatism 
to  me,  and  I'm  going  back  soon's  I  kin  walk 


228         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

without  a  cane.  Wouldn't  'a'  come  as  'tis,  if 
that  Zeb  Jarvis  hadn't  jes'  packed  me  off.  By 
Jocks  !  I  thought  you  and  he  was  acquainted, 
but  you  don't  seem  to  ask  arter  him." 

"  I  felt  sure  he  would  try — I  heard  he  was 
doing  his  duty,"  she  replied  with  averted  face. 

"  Zeke  Watkins  says  he's  no  soldier  at  all,- 
nothing  but  a  dirt-digger." 

For  a  moment,  as  the  cobbler  had  hoped, 
Susie  forgot  her  blushes  and  secret  in  her  in- 
dienation.  "  Zeke  Watkins  indeed  !  '  she  ex- 

o 

claimed.  "  He'd  better  not  tell  me  any  such 
story.  I  don't  believe  there's  a  braver,  truer 
man  in  the—  Well,"  she  added  in  sudden 
confusion,  "  he  hasn't  run  away  and  left  others 
to  dig  their  way  into  Boston,  if  that's  the  best 
way  of  getting  there." 

"Ah,  I'm  going  to  get  even  with  him  yet," 
chuckled  Stokes  to  himself.  "  Digging  is  only 
the  first  step,  Miss  Susie.  When  Old  Put  gets 
good  and  ready,  you'll  hear  the  thunder  of  the 
guns  a'most  in  Opinquake." 

"Well,  Mr.  Stokes,"  stammered  Susie, 
resolving  desperately  on  a  short  cut  to  the 
knowledge  she  craved,  "you've  seen  Mr, 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         229 

Jarvis  a-soldiering.  What  do  you  think  about 
it?" 

"  Well,  now,  that  Zeb  Jarvis  is  the  sneak- 
in'ist  fellow — " 

11  What?  "  cried  the'girl,  her  face  aflame. 

"Wait  till  I  get  in  a  few  more  pegs,"  con 
tinued  Stokes,  coolly.  "  The  other  night  he 
sneaked  right  into  the  enemy's  lines  and  car 
ried  off  a  British  officer  as  a  hawk  takes  a 
chicken.  The  Britisher  fired  his  pistol  right 
under  Zeb's  nose  ;  but,  law  !  he  didn't  mind 
that  any  more'n  a  'sketerbite.  I  call  that 
soldiering,  don't  you  ?  Anyhow,  Old  Put 
thought  it  was,  and  sent  for  him  'fore  day 
light,  and  made  a  sergeant  of  him.  If  I  had 
as  good  a  chance  of  gettin'  rid  of  the  rheuma- 
tiz  as  he  has  of  bein'  captain  in  six  months,  I'd 
thank  the  Lord." 

Susie  sat  up  very  straight,  and  tried  to  look 
severely  judicial  ;  but  her  lip  was  quivering 
and  her  whole  plump  little  form  trembling 
with  excitement  and  emotion.  Suddenly  she 
dropped  her  face  in  her  hands  and  cried  in  a 
gust  of  tears  and  laughter,  "He's  just  like 
grandfather  ;  he'd  face  anything  !  " 


23o        SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

"Anything  in  the  'tarnal  universe,  I  guess, 
*cept  you,  Miss  Susie.  I  seed  a  cannon-ball 
smash  a  shovel  in  his  hands,  and  he  got  another, 
and  went  on  with  his  work  cool  as  a  cucumber. 
Then  I  seed  him  writin'  a  letter  to  you,  and 
his  hand  trembled — " 

"  A  letter  to  me  !  "  cried  the  girl,  springing 
up. 

"Yes;  'ere  it  is.  I  was  kind  of  pegging 
around  till  I  got  to  that ;  and  you  know — " 

But  Susie  was  reading,  her  hands  also  trem 
bling  so  she  could  scarcely  hold  the  paper. 
"It's  about  you,"  she  faltered,  making  one 
more  desperate  effort  at  self-preservation.  "He 
says  you'd  stay  if  you  could  ;  that  they  almost 
drove  you  home.  And  he  asks  that  I  be  kind 
to  you,  because  there  are  not  many  to  care  for 
you — and — and — ' ' 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  never  can  get  even  with  that 
Zeb  Jarvis,"  groaned  Ezra.  "  But  you  needn't 
tell  me  that's  all  the  letter's  about." 

Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  yet  not  so  full 
but  that  she  saw  the  plain,  closing  words  in  all 
their  significance.  Swiftly  the  letter  went  to 
her  lips,  then  was  thrust  into  her  bosom,  and 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE' S  CHRISTMAS.        231 

she  seized  the  cobbler's  hand,  exclaiming, 
1  'Yes,  I  will!  I  will!  You  shall  stay  with 
us  and  be  one  of  us!"  and  in  her  excite 
ment  she  put  her  left  hand  caressingly  on  his 
shoulder. 

11  Susan  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Rolliffe,  who  en 
tered  at  that  moment,  and  looked  aghast  at  the 
scene. 

"  Yes,  I  will!"  exclaimed  Susie,  too  wrought 
up  now  for  restraint. 

"  Will  what  ?  "   gasped  the  mother. 
"  Be  Zebulon  Jarvis's  wife.      He's  asked  me 
plump    and    square,    like    a    soldier ;    and    I'll 
answer  as  grandma  did,  and  like  grandma  I'll 
face  anything  for  his  sake." 

"  Well,  this  is  suddent  !"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Rolliffe,  dropping  into  a  chair.  "Susan,  do 
you  think  it  is  becoming  and  seemly  for  a 
young  woman — 

"Oh,  mother  dear,  there's  no  use  of  your 
trying  to  make  a  prim  Puritan  maiden  of  me. 
Zeb  doesn't  fight  like  a  deacon,  and  I  can't 
love  like  one.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  to  think  that 
great  soldier  is  afraid  of  little  me,  and  nothing 
else  !  It's  too  funny  and  heavenly— 


232         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE' S  CHRISTMAS. 

"Susan,  I   am  dumbfounded  at  your  behav 


ior  ! 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Rolliffe  came  in  from 
the  wood-lot,  and  he  was  dazed  by  the  wonder 
ful  news  also.  In  his  eagerness  to  get  even 
with  Zeb,  the  cobbler  enlarged  and  expatiated 
till  he  was  hoarse.  When  he  saw  that  the 
parents  were  almost  as  proud  as  the  daughter 
over  their  prospective  son-in-law,  he  relapsed 
into  his  old  taciturnity,  declaring  he  had  talked 
enough  for  a  month. 

'  Susie,  the  only  child,  who  apparently  had 
inherited  all  the  fire  and  spirit  of  her  fighting 
ancestors,  darted  out,  and  soon  returned  with 
her  rosebud  of  a  face  enveloped  in  a  great 
calyx  of  a  woollen  hood. 

"  Where  are  you  going?"  exclaimed  her 
parents. 

"You've  had  the  news.  I  guess  Mother* 
Jarvis  has  the  next  right."  And  she  was  off 
over  the  hills  with  almost  the  lightness  and 
swiftness  of  a  snowbird. 

In  due  time  Zeke  appeared,  and  smiled  en- 
couragingly  on  Mrs.  Rolliffe,  who  sat  knitting 
by  the  kitchen  fire.  The  matron  did  not  rise, 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS,         233 

and  gave  him  but  a  cool  salutation.  He  dis 
cussed  the  coldness  of  the  weather  awkwardly 
for  a  few  moments,  and  then  ventured,  "Is 
Miss  Susan  at  home  ?  " 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Rolliffe;  "she's 
gone  to  make  a  visit  to  her  mother-in-law  that 
is  to  be,  the  Widow  Jarvis.  Ezra  Stokes  is 
sittin'  in  the  next  room,  sent  home  sick.  Per 
haps  you'd  like  to  talk  over  camp-life  with 
him." 

Not  even  the  cider  now  sustained  Zeke.  He 
looked  as  if  a  cannon-ball  had  wrecked  all  his 
hopes  and  plans  instead  of  a  shovel.  "  Good- 
evening,  Mrs.  Rolliffe,"  he  stammered;  "  I 
guess  I'll — I'll — go  home." 

Poor  Mrs.  Jarvis  had  a  spiritual  conflict  that 
day  which  she  never  forgot.  Susie's  face  had 
flashed  at  the  window  near  which  she  had  sat 
spinning,  and  sighing  perhaps  that  Nature  had 
not  provided  feathers  or  fur  for  a  brood  like 
hers  ;  then  the  girl's  arms  were  about  her  neck, 
the  news  was  stammered  out — for  the  letter 
could  never  be  shown  to  any  one — in  a  way 
that  tore  primness  to  tatters.  The  widow 
tried  to  act  as  if  it  were  a  dispensation  of 


234         SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

Providence  which  should  be  received  in  solemn 
gratitude  ;  but  before  she  knew  it  she  was 
laughing  and  crying,  kissing  her  sweet-faced 
daughter,  or  telling  how  good  and  brave  Zeb 
had  been  when  his  heart  was  almost  break 
ing. 

Compunction  had  already  seized  upon  the 
widow.  "  Susan,"  she  began,  "  I  fear  we  are 
not  mortifyin'  the  flesh  as  we  ought — 

"  No  mortifying  just  yet,  if  you  please,  "cried 
Susie.  "The  most  important  thing  of  all  is 
yet  to  be  done.  Zeb  hasn't  heard  the  news  ; 
just  think  of  it  !  You  must  write  and  tell  him 
that  I'll  help  you  spin  the  children's  clothes 
and  work  the  farm  ;  that  we'll  face  everything 
in  Opinquake  as  long  as  Old  Put  needs  men. 
Where  is  the  ink-horn?  I'll  sharpen  a  pen 
for  you  and  one  for  me,  and  such  news  as  he'll 
get  !  Wish  I  could  tell  him,  though,  and  see 
the  great  fellow  tremble  once  more.  Afraid 
of  me  !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  that's  the  funniest 
thing —  Why,  Mother  Jarvis,  this  is  Christmas 
Day!" 

"So  it  is,"  said  the  widow,  in  an  awed 
tone.  "  Susie,  my  heart  misgives  me  that  all 


SUSIE  ROLLIFFE'S  CHRISTMAS.         235 

this  should  have  happened  on  a  day  of  which 
Popery  has  made  so  much." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  the  girl.  "  Thank  God  it 
is  Christmas  !  and  hereafter  I  shall  keep 
Christmas  as  long  as  love  is  love  and  God  is 
good." 


14  DAY  USE 


books  are  subjea  to  immediate  recall 


'  >-    • 


19b, 


5/1150477 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


